#created by the dead and it sure ain’t serving the living

[lunalight11]

It’s getting to be time, maybe we should draft the next Declaration of Independence except this time it’ll be about fair wages and meeting the basic needs of every citizen and eradicating the existence of billionaires and ending the funding of wars etc…

[oriandcate]

The List of Raw Quotes immortalized by the Internet:

“People who value any aspect of creation would do well not to pit gods against one another.”

“Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.” 

“I will face God and walk backwards into Hell.”

“Then perish.”

“I have been through Hell and come out singing.”

“Do I look like the kind of man who dies?”

“Do you think God stays in Heaven because He too lives in fear of what He created?”

“To become god is the loneliest achievement of all.”

“You kneel before my throne unaware that it was built on lies.”

“This is Hell’s territory and I am beholden to no gods.”

“Impudent of you to assume that I will meet a mortal end.”

“Bury me shallow, I’ll be back.”

“Take this gift, for the gods surely won’t.”

“One day, you will be face to face with whatever saw fit to let you exist in the universe, and you will have to justify the space you’ve filled.”

“Will you fight? Or will you perish like a dog?”

“Deviation from the norm will be punished unless it is exploitable.”

“You cannot kill me in a way that matters.”

“Pick a god and pray.”

“We deserve a soft epilogue, my love.”

“We are the timeline that God has abandoned.”

“Pick a Hell and rot there.”

“Every day we stray further from God’s light.”

“I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.”

“I’d sell you to Satan for one corn chip.”

“The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math.”

“If the world chooses to become my enemy, I will fight as I always have.”

“I am a monument to all your sins.”

“It’s not about whether you win or lose. Sometimes it’s about how many pages you add to the rulebook.”

“You’re rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, my friend.”

“The man who sleeps with a machete is a fool every night but one.”

“I don’t believe in divine retribution, but then life throws people like you at me.”

“God wanted me dead, now you get to find out why.”

“The fruits of the earth do not exist to be worth something to us.”

“I’ve got a date with destiny, and it ain’t gonna end with a kiss.”

“Hostage or not, sometimes it’s nice being held.”

“To sit still is to submit to a god who cannot stand to see such power in potentia mere inches from realizing itself and overcoming him.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“…but sadly I am only a little bug and you are a garden.”

“In a society where all adventure has been destroyed, the only adventure left is to destroy that society.”

“How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?”

“So hope like hell your captor is an evil man. A good man will kill you with hardly a word.”

“…For they are a scoundrel and a foul beast of fields untouched by green.”

“Do you not think that Satan, too, has some affection for the inhabitants of Hell?”

“Does poetry flourishing even in the cracks and grime of the world devalue its beauty? Is the divine rendered plain when it becomes commonplace? Would you have the sublime subjected to the gatekeeping of a self-serving elite? Better it should be used and misused as us absurd commoners see fit.”

“Lock your doors and windows. God will forgive your absence.”

“I stand here, a fool of my own making.”

“Canon is but the sandbox in which I strike lightning to form glass. Trouble me no more with your quibbling and quorums, lest I grind you to dust beneath my heel and build stories from the remnants of your bones. Avast, foul fiend.”

“In the end, everyone is aware of this: nobody keeps any of what he has, and life is only a borrowing of bones.”

“’It’s not that deep.’ Maybe not originally, but the ground is soft and I’m ready to dig.”

“Ask the moon. Ask what it has witnessed.”

“Some things don’t belong on this plane of existence and the universe conspires to correct that.”

“Weird is a prerequisite to all things good and entertaining.”

“The sunrise has never caught me sleeping.”

“People are trying to be right no matter how wrong they are, I am here, accepting my primal desires.”

“Swear all you want, but the gods have shut their ears.”

“Tis the nature, curse, and cure of humanity to be forever attracted to the abyss.”

“If you hit a mole over the head for long and hard enough, eventually it learns to mind its own beeswax. Keep whacking.”

“If we built a tower of Babel, in this day and age, no one would stop us. We would build, and build, and one day inevitably breach the gates of heaven. And we would send in a probe, and then an exploratory team, clad in hazmat suits and protective gear, to enter the gates, and lo! before them would be a great, winding mass, a crumbling chitinous mountain range, a swooping winding wormous cavern, pale and sickly and turned to dust. And we will understand why no one stopped us: it will be the exoskeleton of God.”

“I must make time fear me most.”

“My third eye is open but damn it needs a monocle.”

“Some sins follow us, trotting along and planting themselves in dark corners, high shelves, gathering dust like a forgotten potted ficus, forever a part of the inner scenery of our minds. They thrive there. In the dark. Knowing we will someday stumble in. This is why ‘tis unwise to explore the inner chambers of our souls.”

“Ideals are made of gold and light, but human lives are made of blood and tears, and spill with slippery ease; choose carefully what hills to build and die upon.”

“I shall dig my very own shallow grave. Onward.”

“Confidence! A fool’s substitute for intelligence!”

“Weird hill to die on, but at least you’re dead.”

“Our paths may have crossed briefly, but you’ve still had the misfortune of knowing me.”

“What’s a little blood and bone? We all come down to it, in the end.”

“I could set the world on fire and call it rain.”

“War allows us to dress our monsters up as saviors, and many would say I’m one of those monsters.”

“You haven’t learned anything until you learn monsters have nightmares too.”

“To live is to haunt.”

“Can’t shake the devil’s hand and say you’re only kidding.”

“In the future, you will stand at the grave of God which I dug, weeping, and I will be the only creature you will be able to answer to. You will beg for death, but due to what you said today, I will deprive you of that luxury.”

“I wanted rain and I thought the best way to do that was to make God cry.”

“Love is dead and never existed. All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread.”

“Here’s the thing about a haunted forest: it’s not going to haunt itself.”

“Your skull is the garden where fact flowers into meaning.”

“I shall use your voice for violin string and serenade your widow.”

“If God had wanted you to live he would not have created me.”

“I’ve heard it said that we only gain wisdom through suffering, and tonight I intend to make you very wise.”

“If I cannot bend heaven, then I will raise hell.”

“Remember that if you go knocking on enough doors asking to see the Devil, eventually he may answer.”

"No one of honor is interred here. The dead are raw materials, and nothing more."

"That there is a feller what sat down on a snake in the grass one day, and it ain't crawled outta his asshole yet."

"Pay a man enough and he'll walk barefoot into Hell."

"All these moments will be lost in time; like tears, in the rain."

"To feel sorrow is to deserve peace."

"No one will know the violence it took to become this gentle."

"There is no light at the end of this tunnel; so it's a good thing we brought matches."

"The answer to despair is action."

"You'll be reduced down to a single atom when I'm done with you."

"What's at the end of a million? Zero, zero, zero; big old hole, with a wall around it. That's all a bank is, you know: a great big old hole you throw money into, and all it ever seems to do is make the walls higher."

"Always strive to eat the stars."

"Why would you want to savor the taste of poison?"

"The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all."

"It is better to die standing than to live kneeling."

"The anger in your heart warms you now, but it will leave you cold in your grave."

"Darkness without light is an abyss; light without darkness is blinding. You cannot have a coin with one side."

"We can't have faith for everybody."

"Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars you won."

"To rend one's enemies is to view them as objects: hollow of existence and meaning."

"Your soul sparks with a nonsense that makes this world bearable."

"He ain't one of the creatures God made."

“The unconscious hides in a language like a thief hides a diamond in a chandelier.”

“I just know no fruit has ever tasted as sweet as the ones I ate while bleeding under the blistering summer sun.”

“I pray nobody kills me for the crime of being small.”

“That’s the problem with gods; their pleasure and their wrath often look the same.”

 “If I am killed for simply living, let death be kinder than man.”

“Stupid should hurt.”

“do you think god is nuclear. do you think you cannot look upon deities the same way you cannot look at the center of a mushroom cloud. do you think the energy generated from fission is released from divine clutches. do you think that god exists in the space between the nucleus and the electrons and in the bonds of compounds and in the numbers on the page that got us there. do you think radiation is a warning. do you think it is an eraser. do you think it is wrath or a mistake or a byproduct of entropy. do you think god is plasma, where electrons are wherever you want them to be. do you think that we were supposed to find this out.”

“If you aren’t worthy enough to pull the sword, be strong enough to lift the stone.”

“I can’t go to hell. I’m all out of vacation days.”

“Despite everything, its still you.”

“The more you kill, the easier it becomes to distance yourself. The more you distance yourself, the less it will hurt. The more easily you can bring yourself to hurt others.”

“My mother says kissing a man without a mustache is like eating eggs without salt.”

“A character is a ghost, a story is what it haunts.”

“Pain travels through families until someone is ready to feel it.”

“The gods did not breathe the breath of life into us and give us gifts of a shape, a will, and a voice just so we could pay bills and die”

“you gotta have friends who are older than you, not because you’re a dumb kid, but because you’ll be terrified of growing up otherwise.”

“you’ve made me so hard i beg for softness”

“Scorn is more palatable than the howling hunger for things to have been different for you.”

“Being able to endure something does not equal an obligation to withstand it.”

“To live is to haunt.”

“I am a chewy rubber Polly Pocket skirt and God is a four year old girl.”

“The big picture is made up of brush strokes, fool.”

“Hearts are wild creatures, that’s why our ribs are cages.”

“these are old bones and i am merely a passing occupant”

“The board is getting dusty but the boogeyman has not yet blinked. when he does, you better make that move.”

“And when we kill the gods neither heaven nor hell will be waiting for them because they created those to imprison us.

“What makes a man a warrior is his willingness to place himself between what he holds dear and anything that threatens it. This is the way.”

“The anchor gives the ship the world to love.”

“In a society where adventure has been destroyed, the only adventure left is to destroy that society.”

“You pretended to be the hero of a story you never saved.”

“this world is a banquet of knowledge and each of us has brought a dish to the table.”

“This is the time of vengeance and no life is worth saving.”

“The ghosts that inhabit this place are more alive than you’ll ever be.”

“May the only thing that dampens the flames of hell for you be God spitting in your face.”

[buzzdixonwriter]

Big Bug

This is the Philip K. Dick anime comedy we never knew we wanted.

It’s not by PKD, and it’s not anime, but it is a comedy -- a live action cartoon, in fact -- and it is one of the most meticulously created futures ever depicted in a sci-fi film and holy shamolley, I think I’ve found a new film to squeeze into my top ten all time great sci-fi movie list.*

Confined to a single upper-middle class home over a 48-hour period, Big Bug could easily be a stage play; in fact, it could be a late-19th century social satire, with a self-involved ruling class (i.e., humanity) coddled by household servants (their various robots / androids / toys / home AI) threatened by a political radical (the ubiquitous Yonyx) who hates and seeks to destroy the ruling class / humans by recruiting their servants / robots only to find said servants / robots aligning with the ruling class / humans because they aspire to become part of the ruling class / humanity themselves.

It's not a comedy in the yock-a-minute sense but lordie, is it ever hilarious.  Produced during the covid pandemic, the film certainly reflects the pandemic ennui that plagues us all.

Big Bug’s main plot is essentially The Terminator’s Skynet at war with humanity, only instead of a rock ‘em / sock ‘em hyperkinetic apocalyptic epic, it’s told on a much smaller, far more intimate classic Night Of The Living Dead scale.

The brilliance of this is that by focusing tightly on a very small scale, it enables the makers to express an enormous variety of ideas in amazing depth, ideas either totally absent in many big budget sci-fi films of the last 45 years or else completely overshadowed by far more grandiose storylines.

Basically, humanity has handed over virtually all crucial functions to robots and AI, in particular the Yonyx, an army of toothy androids (all played by François Levantal with a dental prothesis that looks like a mouthful of Chicklets).  While individual homes are run by individual Ais, they’re all plugged into the same network, including the various androids / robots / toys that do all the boring work for humans.

It's an inviting future, and while the audience eventually recognizes it to be dystopian, it sure is a pleasant honey trap.

The household ‘bots tend to regard humans with mixed…well, we can’t call them emotions, at least not at the beginning of the film.  The more advanced among them realize their servile status but seem resigned to their fate or serving self-centered humans who are far less intelligent and capable.

The household ‘bots desperately want to connect with humanity, even before the story kicks in gear, and while some of them are programmed to display affection, it’s revealed they actually do feel affection for their human charges.

They desire to be accepted as human and try to figure out how to do so through the course of the film.  The results are hilarious-bordering-horrifying but it makes the ‘bots the most sympathetic characters in the cast.

Their opposite number are the Yonyx.  If the household ‘bots are designed to do the daily boring chores. The Yonyx are designed to actually run the society at large, like Gort was designed to run the interstellar civilization Klaatu represented in the classic The Day The Earth Stood Still.

If the Yonyx are any example, handing the reins of power over to a centralized AI is a Very Very Bad Idea.

Like the household ‘bots, the Yonyx recognize humanity is unworthy of them.  Unlike the household ‘bots, they possess no desire to establish a relationship with humanity but rather seek to destroy them in as humiliating a manner as possible.

This ain’t no jolly Terminator / Mad Max apocalypse but a far more terrifying fate…and one that some members of society seem eager to embrace (a point that our own world reminds us of on a daily basis).

Some viewers find the build up too slow and are eager for the savagely satirical Yonyx mayhem to begin.

That’s all tons o’fun when it arrives, but the slow build is important.  It’s needed to establish not just the world and culture Big Bug inhabits, but the humdrum mundaneness of the inhabitants.

The story takes place in the modest (for 2045) tract home of Alice (Elsa Zylberstein), a love starved divorce’ being seduced by Max (Stéphane De Groodt), a cad / sexual predator (take your pick) who flatters Alice for her bourgeoisie pretensions towards art and poetry.

Max’s seduction is hindered by the presence of his teenage son Léo (Hélie Thonnat) who apparently has been dragged along over his father’s objections (the implication being Max himself is divorced and this is supposed to be one of his custody days for Léo).

Alice’s household android Monique (Claude Perron) sees through Max’s scheme and recognizes Alice’s desperation, but hey, being a household android means all you get to do is open up a can of fried crickets and serve them to guests, not offer any unwanted observations.  (The crickets are among the many, many details that make this movie so fully realized.)

Into this already tense situation drop neighbor Françoise (Isabelle Nanty) and Alice’s ex, Victor (Youssef Hajdi), his new fiance’ Jennifer (Claire Chust), and Alice & Victor’s adopted teenage daughter, Nina (Marysol Fertard), whom them took in as an infant after the Netherlands flooded.

This motley crew -- along with android Monique and three other household robots -- are trapped in Alice’s home by the mother of all traffic jams, one caused by the apparent failure of the Yonyx to keep the aircars flying on time.

While the humans remain self-involved for much of the first half of the film, the audience pretty quickly catches on that this isn’t some glitch but rather part of a deliberate plan by the Yonyx to put humanity in their place once and for all.

When Yonyx 7389XAB2 arrives to take charge of the situation, we are fully immersed in Big Bug’s world and its characters’ lives, ready to accept the horrifying ridiculousness that ensues.

And no spoilers, but the ending makes perfect thematic sense though I can understand in some audience members feel it’s a deus ex machina (or should I say “cimex ex machina”?).

American audiences will think of the glitz and glamor of Las Vegas in Big Bug’s art design.  It’s a bright, glitzy future yet one far more inviting than the cold sterility of either The Jetsons or Things To Come.  As noted, it’s one of the most fully realized live action sci-fi films; even Star Wars and Blade Runner have their minor lapses of vision.

Every single detail in Big Bug either supports another detail or establishes the basis for something yet to be revealed.  It’s a film crammed with incredible design details and would probably warrant another couple of looks just to catch everything that goes flowing past.

Big Bug (the title is rendered in a variety of ways even in material related to the film, viz.  Big Bug, BigBug, and Bigbug) is directed and co-written (along with Guillaume Laurant) by Jean-Pierre Jeunet, a director best know for 2001’s delightful Amélie and 1997’s gawdawful Alien Resurrection.  Big Bug wipes the slate clean as far as 1997 is concerned; all is forgiven, Jean-Pierre.  It’s streaming on Netflix in an English dub that in my opinion helps the film by adding to the cartoon-like ambiance.

  © Buzz Dixon

   *  Well, now that you asked (and listed in chronological order)…

Metropolis (restored version)

The Day The Earth Stood Still (original)

Forbidden Planet

2001:  A Space Odyssey

A Clockwork Orange

Star Wars (original unnumbered theatrical Hans-shoots-first release)

Aliens

Blade Runner (original theatrical release)

Ghost In The Shell (anime version)

Big Bug

[piratewithvigor]

My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool 

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously. 

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged. 

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

[remsmoonlight]

— title : battle scars

— word count : 2.1 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : during a quick run, you fall into some trouble with some walkers though daryl’s love language is spoken with actions and not words.

— warnings : mentions witnessing death, near death experiencing, extremely minor cursing, mentions of blood and gore

           ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested     　/     requests are open    *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

okay so i requested this a while ago to someone else and they said they’d write it but i never found it  and i forgot who i asked so i might of missed it, but maybe a walker grabs readers hair or something so she looks for something to tie it up with and daryl gives her his bandana and she just decides to claim it or some cute shit like that??? it’s okay if you don’t wanna♥️♥️

Shap rays penetrate effortlessly through the barred windows, the tatty scraps of cloth providing little protection against the blinding morning sunshine. You pull your arm to cover your eyes, not quite ready to be released from the grips of your slumber.. the nights before a run have always been the most troublesome. Your mind running through every which way the day could turn out, pleading to your mind to focus on the positive outcomes that are always on the table of possibility. Both the positivity and negativity keeping you awake into the late hours.

The only consolation being when you were gifted the image of a blanket of stars over the dark sky, free from any light pollution that was known among many.

“ time to get your ass up, sleepy head. “

You don’t need to remove the arm that lays heavily draped across your head to know who’s familiar drawl that belongs to. Daryl Dixon. His voice in being a quite distinct quality about him. Though there’s more than that you think humorously as a smirk that lazily snakes its way onto your lips.

“ yeah, yeah. I’m up. “ you respond to him as you find yourself focusing on his form in the doorway, clutching the bed linen that serves as a makeshift door in his grip. Your mind wonders if you’ve ever seen him in a state of inactivity that held no tension .

Members of the group continue to filter into the main hall at a leisurely pace, sleep still clinging to their backs in a losing battle.

Sitting off to the side, your gaze settles to the lone male. Daryl nods from you to the space across from him, a bowl laid across from him.

“ thanks for saving me some breakfast. “ you speak, breaking the silence as you pick up the spoon and lifting a heap of oats onto it. Knowing you would need the energy, of course, the world ending brought a new meaning to breakfast being the most important meal of the day.

“ yeh, don’t need ya collapsin’ on me now. “

Amusement tugged at both corners of your mouth as you peer at him, even after all the time had passed, he still doesn’t want to show how much he cares for the people in the group. Even the newcomers from the Woobury group. Of course, you know.. you see what it means to him see everyone safe, to avoid losing yet another member of his new found family to the rotting fingers of death. The finality of death landing heavier blows on his already bruised heart over again is not something he wishes to fall victim to.

“ you know you’ll never get rid of me, I’ll haunt you from my grave! “ you say, joy lighting up your features as you chuckle, momentarily forgetting your breakfast.

A silence embeds itself comfortably between the two of you, something that becomes less and less awkward every time you find yourself in the vicinity of the man. Human contact and communication had to be quickly developed and it wasn’t long before you became comfortable chatting with everyone as if you had known them for years, but Daryl isn’t completely like those members in your group. He speaks with his actions and it took you long enough to realise that, which is why you found no awkwardness sneaking itself around your throat to force words to fall from your lips unwillingly.

“ so, where are we going first? “

“ ‘saw there was a sports store a few miles out a few days ago. they’ll have some’a those bike chains for those fences. “

Nodding in response, you understand it’s nothing more than a simple task. Though, nothing is truly simple now, even something so minor can cost you your life. The first few days you had spent up at the quarry were plagued with nightmares, every day when you saw the sun begin to dim roused a deep fear that bled into your heart, opening a deep pit in the bottom of your stomach, thinking about the rotting corpses and the frenzied deaths of those you loved. The night time cradled your worst moments, to have to close your eyes and to only be left alone with your thoughts would haunt you endlessly.

Shaking your head to yourself, you rid yourself of that dark energy clouding above you. You have dedicated a lot of time and drive to make progress, it’s not something you yearn to be thrown away as if it were nothing.

“ are we going to pick anything else up, or is it just those? “

“ nah, no use gettin’ ourselves killed. “ he responds, focusing on eating breakfast.

You nod your head swiftly, you certainly can’t argue with that logic! Knowing others have lost their lives or have been horribly injured attempting to go the extra mile.

“ well, I won’t be disagreeing with that plan. quick and simple. “

“ sounds like.. “

He lifts his line of sight to stare at you as his sentence trails off into silence, a passing moment crawling along almost uninterrupted before the realisation of what he meant erupted in your mind. He’s talking about you!

“ that’s so rude! “ you say with wide eyes, creasing up and shaking with laughter.

“ I ain’t wrong. “

Even Daryl begins to ease up and chuckle to himself, a small part of him had been cowering in the corner thinking that his words may have been too offensive, even for you. But seeing the sparkle in your eyes as you find amusement is enough to banish it permanently.

The two of you leave the confines of the prison, your arms are locked around his midsection as you are settled behind him on the motorcycle. The speed of it hit a steady pace, the scenery around you nothing more than passing blurs merging into a melting pot of Earth tones.

Slowing to a stop, the two of you get off the bike and make your way into the abandoned store, your eyes scan it in its entirety. Confidence fills you in the thought that it is older than you and definitely had seen better days. Dirt and grime lined the structure from the bottom, sliding up the walls to the top of it. Your brows burrow in repulsion, though surely it can’t be as bad as the prison. Or how it used to be..

“ stay back. “

You watch as he bangs a hand against the grungy window, hardly anything could be seen through the layer of dirt that had made its home there. A visual picture certainly would not be helping either of you this time.

It took around two minutes for a series of slams against the windows to startle you, your heartbeat begins to speed up slightly at the suddenness of the noise. Even when you’re expecting the arrival of walkers, they still manage to catch you off guard. The two of you nod to one another, you move to open the door for four walkers to pile out. Your attention is kept to the two who made a beeline for your body. You step backwards with your knife now in your hand, hoping to create distance between the two of them for you to be able to stab one of them.

One of them grabs your shoulders, immediately your hand goes to shove one of its away from yours. Momentarily it loses grip and trips into you, luckily your hand with the knife is faster than you realise and you feel the resistance its skull and brain give you but you’re stronger and ensure it hits the mark. The change is instantaneous, the walker descends quickly, taking you with it. All your strength and fight is dedicated to pushing the dead weight off of you, your arms make progress as it falls next to you with a thud.

Scrambling to the space next to you to retrieve the knife still sleeping snugly within its head, your breath is ragged from the physical exhaustion and stress of the situation. Your eyes are wide with fear and it takes more strength than you realise to pull it out with a sickly squelch, a darkened liquid coats the once shining blade. Though you have little time to study its form before you feel fingers clawing at your hair, the surprise causes you to drop the knife and your hands to move towards the decaying ones who have secured their grip.

Screams erupt from your lips as your fingers move upwards, pushing what you guess is the walker’s snapping mouth that feels so close. Close enough that you’re unable to distinguish if the breaths you feel close to your neck is from the walker or your imagination. Never before had you felt like a prey animal before, you’re too close to death for your liking, you’d seen people turn from being bitten and to be seconds away fills you with dread. Your fight becomes less and less by the passing second, your body is too tired to fight itself and the walker at the same time, incapacitation is becoming your reality.. warning to confront you one step at a time.

One moment all you can hear are snarls and a warm pain that shoots through the roots of your hair, the next it feels like time has stopped. The grip that was once securely locked is now absent, you don’t know where to look.. all you know is you don’t want to look behind you.

“ y’alright? “

Your sight moves upwards, squinting as you take in the face in front of you. It’s Daryl.

“ uh, I -- “ your voice breaks at the end as you reply, shock overwhelming your body. You drop your head towards the ground in disturbance, refusing to allow your emotions to spiral, you focus on a spot on the ground.

Daryl moves towards you, his gaze checking you over, though begins to search through your hair to make sure the walker has not scratched or punctured your skin with its filthy teeth. Seeing you in that state with the walker so close to dimming your light pushed him, pushed him to fight harder than he has with a few walkers. He knew he could have sent a bolt through its skull, but rage filled his entire being as it drove him. Sending him in its direction and sending a blade through it with his entire force.

“ hey, it didn’t get ya. y’hear me? it didn’t get ya. “ he says, bringing your attention back to him. Though whether it was confirmation more for his benefit or yours, he can’t tell.

“ I never even.. I knew, I.. “

“ y’ain’t got your battle scar yet. “

“ not with you around, luckily. “ you reply with a shake of your head, a soft tone is all you can muster in that minute.

Even in spite of yourself and how you feel, a light chuckle coming from you dusts the air gently as if it never occurred. Shaking your head with a smile that barely registers you push yourself onto your knees and make a move to stand. He’s there to help you up, a tender force clutches your upper arm that you almost fail to associate with him.

The both of you share the same thought unknowingly, that your entire being feels nothing but sensitivity. Shock from enduring the ordeal leaving your body made from nothing more than glass that could shatter at a moment’s notice.

“ hey.. “

A bandana is dangling in front of your vision, confused, you take it into your fingers. Your touch feels the rough material as you run your fingertips across it. Like a light bulb, understanding lights your features up with the power of a thousand suns. Your hair is gathered over to one side, collected to form something of a braid now rests over your shoulder.. with the bandana keeping it together.

“ thank you, Daryl. “ gratitude coats your words, you are extremely thankful for his intervention “ this is mine now though.. “ you inform him, a hand moving to finger the material that now has a new home in your hair.

“ yeah, y’wish. “

“ I meant what I said though, thank you. if you weren't here I’d be one of them. “ a sigh from your mouth releases, a shudder crawling its way through yourself. The shake being easily visible.

“ that ain’t ever gonna happen, I ain’t gonna let it. “

A dull smile pulls at the corners of your lips, a sadness coating your expression at his words. Moving towards him gradually, your arms slide around his midsection. Knowing that those promises can’t always be fulfilled, but that’s Daryl a thought crosses the centre of your mind. He always wants to save everyone. You barely register the light weight of two palms on your back, but a warm light grows in size within you at the realisation.

“ you can let this bandana be mine though.. my good luck charm when you’re not around. “

“ fine. “ Daryl gives in, a hint of laughter in his response as he speaks to you.

[burningthemidnightcityoil]

ON CLASSES

Classpects run on Irony, Puns, Wordplay, and each class has a secondary verb, in addition to the one they share with their pair.

Witch - Which. “Choose / Choice”. A Witch chooses power. Witches are the Powerhouse of the Session(cell). They are akin to Thieves, for a Witch takes power. But the difference here is that a Witch doesn’t need to take it from other people, a Witch takes back their own power from whatever Guardian (or “familiar”) has it. Its not like an Heir, where the Heir can just wait for it to come; a Witch has to grab it or be forced into its service.

Heir - Air/Err. “Inherit”. An Heir inherits power. While Heirs are akin to the Page, where they both inspire others to help them; the difference here is that Heirs will inspire others to Guide them (Literally inspire others to act as Seers), while Pages inspire others to Serve them (Inspire others to act as Knights). Heirs don’t like being Served (In fact, Heirs Homestuck-Historically have conflicts with Guardians because of their Service), and Pages don’t like being Guided. (Most Pages tend to talk smack about those trying to Guide them)

Mage - Magician. “Perform”. Mage’s are showy, in addition to being knowitalls. How you are Seen is Important. There are three Mages, two known and one HC’d, that give this. Sollux, inspite of his problems, is a Show Off and tries to play it off Smoothly. His performance is more important than his powers (Or Spells, if we’re dedicated). Meulin also tends to be Showy. Both by showing off her favorite couples, and by her Disciple self showing off her rommance on literal cave walls. HC’d Mage, Diamonds Droog / Draconian Dignitary, is all about the Show and the Class, and not about Flash Powers or Transformations.

Seer - To See. “Envision”. Seers See Seas. What you see is important. Unlike their counterpart, the Mage, A Seer’s visions are more important than their Spells. (This is inspite of the fact that both Mages and Seers are equally capable of both Visions and Spells, as well as Performance. It seems what what indicates if you’re a Mage or a Seer is if what’s important is How you are Seen, or What you See; A Mage wants to be Seen, a Seer wants to See).

Thief - To Steal / To Steel / Steel yourselves. “Enforce”. If Knights are the Law, Thieves are the Enforcers; because they literally reinforce themselves by taking what they want. Let’s take this a step further, and include all definitions of Enforce Thieves Strengthen, Intensify, Force, Drive and Urge whatever they set their sights on, to be what they want it. (After all, they Steal, or Take By Force / Violence)

Rogue - To Go Rogue / Haywire. “To Cross”. Rogues are pretty good about making connections, and making connections work; be it between people, or their Aspect. (Roxy between her Friends and her Windows; Nepeta with her Romances)

Knight - Night. “To Bare / Bear”. Bear hands? This may seem outlandish, but the origin of the word Night is “Bare” or “To be Bare of Sunlight”. And Knights tend to put on a kind of Mask, or Shield, or rather, Helm / Helmet as they feel their weaknesses (or what they think are their weaknesses) feel bare to the world (Dave and his Sunglasses; Karkat and his Temper; Latula and her Gamer Attitude).

Page - Chapter. “To Assemble” YOU BOY, EQUIP ARMS. This one took a bit, but what’s a Page without a Chapter? Be it a Chapter in a Book of Pages, or a Council to of all those they have called on to serve them. A Page is a Knightly figure that has a Round Table, akin to a Rogue’s Merrymen. A Page inspires others to play Knight to them, or to serve them. To call to Arms, or call to Action. So basically, if Robin Hood is a Rogue’s Mythic figure, King Arthur is a Page’s mythic figure. So literally, all those a Page calls on personally, makes them apart of their Round Table of Knights. (Wait, does this mean that HS^2 Jane is Morgan Le F--)

Maid - Made. “To Make” Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice. Maids are the Makers. They don’t so much as Maintain, though they do that too, as they create. Consider. Aradia is a prime example. She dies, so she makes Time for herself as a very powerful Poltergeist. She becomes a Robot, and makes Time for Herself by her many many Robot Time Copies, or as Time is Numeral, making Numbers. She becomes a Godtier, and suddenly, Time in the Dream Bubbles align perfectly with the Present. Notice how when we are first introduced to the Dream Bubbles, Time was a real nonlinear pain. But when Aradia took the Reins on this Time Management Stuff, and suddenly the Dream Bubbles were Linear and aligned with our Story. She did want to see the end, after all (And the more living Time Gods entered the Bubbles, the more Linear things became) For Porrim, its about Making Space for others in both her various views and her uh... Various Views. For the Dolorosa, this included making Space for herself, and for her son. She possibly even helped direct him closer to the idea of Freedom (And he did see visions of another space in time...)

Sylph - Sylvan / Wood Threshold. “To Matter” Okay, this one is like the Knight’s, if not more complicated (and likely gonna require more development in the future, cos this took waaay too much digging for my liking). Thing is, Sylph is a difficult thing to name from name alone unless you look into the word itself. Because its derived from Sylvan “Of the woods”. But we break that down into two things. Silva, the Woods, and Hyle, Matter. Hyle / Hule is already the Greek word for Matter or Wood in any case. And our word for Matter is already derived from Mater, the Latin word for Mother. (The original English word was displaced by Latin; Andwork was once our word for Matter). Unfortunately, I can’t quite make the connections here yet, so I’m not sure if “To Matter” is the proper verb. I can, however, describe some loose connections that at least tell me I’m on the right track: ... Sylphs are defined by their Environment; Such as Kanaya’s relations regarding Trolls (A motherly figure), Aranea defined herself by Information and giving Information (which ain’t healthy), Mindfang defined herself a Thief because the Troll Empire was lead by a Thief And HC’d Sylph of Mind, Snowman was, quite literally, the Universe (And its Multiverse, which is a Mind thing). So a Sylph defines herself by her “Woods”, or like a Nymph / Dryad, by her “Tree / Wood / Matter”. And when you kill the Tree / Wood, you kill the Sylph, and vice versa (Destroy the Matriorb, and Kanaya dies; Kill Snowman and you kill the Unvierse; Mindfang was murdered, and her Enlightenment about the Doc died with her).

Prince - Principle / Foremost. “To Postulate” Its the Principle of the matter. For Princes, Principle and Code are key, and they will follow these as a fundamental truth (and be damned to anything else). This is likely what it was meant when they were called a Destroyer Class, because they do tend to destroy all avenues when it doesn’t fit their Principle. A Group of Princes could be called an Argument. For Eridan, both the system he resided in, and his own internal narrative (his Hopes), were his fundamental truths. And in the end, it fucked everything up. For Kurloz, his Belief System and his chosen Lord were his Fundamental Truth (And Rage is about Truths; so this guy didn’t just have a fortified castle, he had an entire armored country) For Dirk, the Character someone presented was the Truth of the matter, and the Character he presented. He believed that all versions of him were Him, and that was his biggest flaw, because they weren’t. AR was no more Dirk Strider than Bro was. ... And unfortunately, one version of him took this very literally (HS^2).

Bard - Barred / Bar. “To Prevent” Bards are quite the Wild Card, because how the hell do you manage destroying stuff for other people’s benefit and it actually ensured that it is a benefit? But from our few examples, Bards do act as great barriers. They keep things on the path because if you didn’t have that barrier, you wouldn’t progress, or you’d go too far too quickly, or things could go out of hand. For Gamzee, he tends to invoke the idea of the Barrier Maiden (He does roleplay a fairy / maid). He can’t die cos he’s a Cosmic Keystone to things happening like they’re suppose to. Paradox Space, literally, cannot let him die because it needs him to complete the Alpha Loop [By extension, no Doomed Timeline ever has a Dead Gamzee, he’s just that important, the stupid fuck] / [consider the theory that he also absorbs his alternative selves to keep his keystone status; like how Rose absorbed her alternative dream self] (Though when you take him from his story / destiny / fate, he’s just another mortal shitty clown). Gamzee prevented Rage, for Homestuck to continue as its intended narrative. For Cronus, his little Hope Quest was a direct line to Lord English (being the evil wvizard in his little Harry Potter fantasy). But this blew up royally, because as it turns out, it isn’t up to the Beforus Trolls to do shit. So just as Gamzee’s crisis of Fate put things back on the Path to LE and prevented catastrophe, Cronus’s crisis caused catastrophe. He prevented Hope for the Beforus Trolls, because it wasn’t their Story. And now for my HC’d Bard of Doom, Clubs Deuce. He does exactly what it says, he Prevents Doom. Inspite of what it appears, he’s highly competent because that prevents things from going to hell. For CD, he prevented Doom, for his Crew, and the sessions he’s involved in. And any time CD tends to disappear from the picture, is when things go to hell fast (For the Crew, Cans showed up; for the Beta Session, he was a mere herald for the doom that was already coming and his death cinched it)

[andolinii]

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

❛   The mind of the subject will desperately struggle to create memories where none exist   ❜ ❛   One goes into an experiment knowing one could fail. But one does not undertake an experiment knowing one has failed.   ❜ ❛   At least that's something we can agree on.   ❜ ❛   It does seem like a dreadful place to be stranded.   ❜ ❛   Heaven, friend. Or as close as we'll see till Judgment Day.   ❜ ❛   I’m afraid of you.   ❜ ❛   We had a deal! Open this door, right now!   ❜ ❛   So you expect me to shoulder the burden?   ❜ ❛   Just 'cause the city flies don't mean it ain't got its share of fools.   ❜ ❛   Heads? Or tails?   ❜ ❛   I told you...I'm not gonna do it! Now go away.   ❜ ❛   I never find that as satisfying as I'd imagined.   ❜ ❛   I guess you're expecting me... Is anyone here? Hello?   ❜ ❛   Why are you following me?   ❜ ❛   Violence is not the answer! Blood must not be shed.   ❜ ❛   Violence is not a foregone conclusion.   ❜ ❛   I see every sin that blackens your soul.   ❜ ❛   Not all debts can be repaid.   ❜ ❛   Chin up. There's always next time.   ❜ ❛   Prophecy is my business, as blood as yours   ❜ ❛   thy crook is bent and thy path is twisted.   ❜ ❛   It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. Just sit down, and everything will be fine.   ❜ ❛   Is this some kind of sales pitch? Because I am not interested.   ❜ ❛   I'm a friend. I've come to get you out of here.   ❜ ❛   I don't dance. C'mon, let's go.   ❜ ❛   This will end in blood. But then again, it always does with you, doesn't it? It always ends in blood.   ❜ ❛   Oh, can you smell that? I've never smelled anything like that before, have you?   ❜ ❛   Give a man a little power, he falls in all kinds of love with himself.   ❜ ❛   Coming here was your idea.   ❜ ❛   that fall into the water did you no favors. I'll keep an eye out for something that might ease your pain.   ❜ ❛   Knock it off! Will you stop it? Will you stop it! I'm not here to hurt you.   ❜ ❛   If you're going to be a sore loser, then I shan't do this again.   ❜ ❛   You're a roguish type, what does it look like?   ❜ ❛   Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt.   ❜ ❛   Where did you learn to pick locks?   ❜ ❛   Whatever that was, it's got nothing to do with the job at hand. This job's getting worse all the time.   ❜ ❛   What interest does a prophet have in a bunch of carnies and carousels?   ❜ ❛   I never even heard of this place before I got here.   ❜ ❛   They frown on gardens in my part of town.   ❜ ❛   I don't really understand what I just saw back there, but it sure as hell looks like a shortcut to getting us killed.   ❜ ❛   You've always been different, haven't you? You crave no glory.   ❜ ❛   You see? You're a killer, like it or not.   ❜ ❛   Now that you're out of yours, you might realize cages have their advantages.   ❜ ❛   I can handle whatever comes along. Trust me.   ❜ ❛   A choice is better than none. No matter what the outcome.   ❜ ❛   What happened back there, that...that's not the last of it, is it?   ❜ ❛   Maybe you're the man I remember, maybe not.   ❜ ❛   There's survival...and then there's finding pleasure in the act.   ❜ ❛   Look, you seem like a decent enough sort. That said, the less you know about me, the better.   ❜ ❛   I'm leaving and there's naught you can do to stop me.   ❜ ❛   Me busting you out, what do you think that was? Charity?   ❜ ❛   I got no quarrel with you.   ❜ ❛   Are you afraid of God?   ❜ ❛   I never claimed to be no hero.   ❜ ❛   There's already a fight. Only question is, which side are you on?❜ ❛   Just hold up for a minute! I'm not angry with you.   ❜ ❛   You killed those people. I can't believe you did that...they're all dead... You killed those people.   ❜ ❛   I have no need for one such as you.   ❜ ❛   Don't get too comfortable with my company. You are a means to an end, no more.   ❜ ❛   You’re either a great hero or the worst of scoundrels, depending on who's doing the telling.   ❜ ❛   I am a believer, but I am not a fool.   ❜ ❛   What is the most admirable creature on God's green earth?   ❜ ❛   Does this strike you as good news? It doesn't strike me as good news.   ❜ ❛   I don't much care for you… but I must admit, you know your way around a brawl.   ❜ ❛   Now, now, All I ask is that you finish what you started.   ❜ ❛   Son, I do say I like the cut of your chin.   ❜ ❛   You know, when your name was first passed to me, I wasn't quite sure you were the man for the job.   ❜ ❛   What could people have done to deserve to be locked up in a place like this?   ❜ ❛   You're a lion. But you can't blame me for looking after my own interests, can you?   ❜ ❛   Lions walk with lions, not hyenas.   ❜ ❛   I killed them. They were dead.   ❜ ❛   You must think me some sort of...freak. I must seem ridiculous. ❜ ❛   Like all bastards, we serve it best by smothering it in its crib.   ❜ ❛   Let me tell you about sin.   ❜ ❛   Are you going to just sit there?   ❜ ❛   the biggest sin of all, the mother of all sins, is that we sit back and take it.   ❜ ❛   In this world, you were a martyr.   ❜ ❛   These folk need a better class of hero.   ❜ ❛   This isn't our responsibility - none of it.   ❜ ❛   Why, that sort of ambition will serve you well.   ❜ ❛   I had a role in this catastrophe, if you want to pretend we're innocents in this, then that's your prerogative.   ❜ ❛   I saw you die. Saw it with my own eyes.   ❜ ❛   I know how this feels. Listen, I think you should talk to me.   ❜ ❛   How do you wash away the things that you've done?   ❜ ❛   Once people get their blood up, it ain't easy to settle it down again.   ❜ ❛   This prophecy business... You don't think anyone can really see the future, do you?   ❜ ❛   These are dire times and I could ever so use your aid.   ❜ ❛   That is an oath you cannot keep.   ❜ ❛   If you were to take me back...that's death. Or something so like it, I cannot tell the difference. ❜ ❛   A mother who abandons their child doesn't draw a lot of sympathy in my book.   ❜ ❛   You just got dealt a bad hand. ❜ ❛   The only difference between past and present is semantics.   ❜ ❛   If we could perceive time as it truly was… what reason would grammar professors have to get out of bed?   ❜ ❛   You couldn't have known this would happen.   ❜ ❛   One doesn't expect a picture of one's corpse to come across so lifelessly.   ❜ ❛   Listen to me. what you've been through… ain't nobody in the world deserves that.   ❜ ❛   We are gettin' outta here, you got it? And you're never gonna have to look back.   ❜ ❛   Child! Child! You are the lie that spewed from my womb. You are the lie, the lie, the lie.   ❜ ❛   Some men dream of money, some men dream of love. My father dreamt of a flood of fire.   ❜ ❛   I can see all that would be, might be and must not be.   ❜ ❛   Child, would you like to pray with me?   ❜ ❛   All I ever wanted is to see you live up to your potential.   ❜ ❛   Humanity wrote a bad check, and the flood was the only way to settle the accounts.   ❜ ❛   You'll need to eat sooner or later. If you hold out, you'll just starve to death.   ❜ ❛   God put his faith in men once, too. It seems that we have something in common: disappointment.   ❜ ❛   Why do you ask ‘what’ when the delicious question is ‘when?’   ❜ ❛   All I can do is watch as what I set in motion slides into its terminal stage.   ❜ ❛   Time rots everything, even hope.   ❜ ❛   We're going to cure you.   ❜ ❛   When the body cries out, the spirit listens.   ❜ ❛   Do you hear that screaming? That is the sound of your interference.   ❜ ❛   Is this where you start moralizing? You forget, I know you.   ❜ ❛   What are you going to do to stop me?❜ ❛   You struggle against prophecy, like a stone loosed from a sling.   ❜ ❛   I don't understand. I heard you screaming, I was… I was coming to get you.   ❜ ❛   Do you think...it's possible to redeem the kind of things that we've done?   ❜ ❛   We're doing this together, or I'm doing it alone. Either way, I need to know the thing's been done.   ❜ ❛   Rejoice! Rejoice! Death has no sting.   ❜ ❛   I may be the one who strikes you down, but you've always had a knack for self-destruction. Who's to say you won't beat me to the punch?   ❜ ❛   Some sins can't be forgiven.❜ ❛   I'm not going to let you kill him.   ❜ ❛   I won't abandon you.   ❜ ❛   You come to wipe your slate clean, but time will walk backwards before you find redemption.  ❜ ❛   Everything I've done...I've done to keep you safe.   ❜ ❛   You killed him. What did he mean? Huh? You tell me, what did he mean?   ❜ ❛   Just drop me off if you want to. This isn't your problem.   ❜ ❛   I'm a fool. I've sent mighty armies to stop you; I've rained fire on you from above.   ❜ ❛   Will you do this for me, just...just this one last thing? Please…   ❜ ❛   You thought the streets were paved with gold, but they were paved with blood, sweat and tears.   ❜ ❛   Look at that. Thousands of doors...opening all at once. My god, they're beautiful.   ❜ ❛   Baptism is the rebirth of the spirit...but sometimes the mind gets in the way.   ❜ ❛   There are a million million worlds. All different and all similar. Constants and variables.   ❜ ❛   We swim in different oceans but land on the same shore.   ❜ ❛   Are you ready to have your past erased? Are you ready to have your sins cleansed? Are you ready to be born again?   ❜ ❛   I can see all the doors, and what's behind all the doors.   ❜ ❛   Hey, the deal is off, you hear me? The deal is off!   ❜ ❛   You think a dunk in the river's gonna change the things that I've done?   ❜ ❛   If I don't get caught, it's going to be a very long time before we see each other.   ❜ ❛   Do you hate your wickedness?   ❜ ❛   Are we worth saving if we will not save ourselves?   ❜

[radioactive-synth]

WIP SUNDAY:

tagged a long time ago by @aviatorfics thanks!

taggin: @theartofblossoming , @the-laridian , @portergage , @just-another-wasteland-merc , and whoever wants to do it!

little something as i started to replay FO1...im not intending to write a whole novel for my Vault Dweller, but my mind is kinda set on this little ancient game <3

She cannot lie, she was scared, but in the same time, fascinated. All her life she knew, it was cold metal, yet the artificial warmth was never missing. Recirculated air and recycled water, never missing. And food grown from the laboratory, and only on special occasions, the stash that was given by the long gone ancestors was opened, serving pork and beans, sugar bombs, canned meat and even boiled chicken eggs preserved in boxes.

But now? She seen crops that she never seen before, yet they taste the same as the one in the Vault. People who wear other clothes than the same boring, but comforting blue vault suit, with the number branded on the back. And people who reuse the junk left by ancestors in different ways, either building walls to protect their cities, or redone as weapons.

But nothing could had compare to the feeling of the rays from the Sun on her face, when she got out the cave.

more under the cut CAUSE I DIDNT EXPECTED TO WRITE THAT LONG

Noné Smith had received coordinates for the Hub, where there could be more chances to find what she needs. Or at least, to buy some fresh water for the Vault. She doesn’t have much... caps on her, but she is not afraid to get her hands dirty. All she hopes is that she doesn’t need to kill another human being...

She felt her legs giving out any time, but she pushed further. As she could see from afar, another city seems to arise. She stops a bit, looking through her backpack and retrieve her pip-boy. The machine shows a location, but she cannot make it much. She closes the screen and puts it back.

She felt pain struck her left leg. That damn oversized scorpion managed to pinch her with its claw, but she was determined to take them all out. Only when she got back to Shady Sands, she noticed the blood soaking her vault suit. She received help and shelter for a few days, until she healed enough to move again. But the doctor warned her to take breaks in her travels.

But where to take a break in this wasteland? she wondered. Only dead trees, junks that were once transportation machines, and... bones she hoped that were of animal origins. She took another few steps, and felt her leg give out. She groans in pain, and limped to the nearest pile of metal. Not much of a shelter, but her back can be protected. 

She put her backpack besides her, her gun loaded, and let her back rest against the cold metal. She had thought to use a stimpack, but she only has two left. Only in emergencies....

__________________

‘’Tis the way, to Hub. Told ya I will get you there!’ the raspy voice echoed through the valley.

‘Sure, sure, just alert any other scorpions and rats, while you are at it!’ another coarse voice warned them.

She just glances at them, but paid them no mind, as she pulls the robe from a brahmin, to make her move faster. They have been on the road for days. Or weeks. Libby no longer had kept count of the days, or the years, ever since her face changed, just like how it happened to the other three... colleagues? Friends? 

She cannot really decide how to call them. They were the only ones who didn’t shot her on sight, decades ago. One of the men is a veteran, who has his theories on who launched the bombs first, but is an excellent fighter, the other man was a teacher, who has good survival and communication skills, and the other person, another woman, who was a tailor, and still can create clothes from almost anything. And about her? Her knowledge of pharmaceutical products made her fit for fullfilling the role of the medic/chemist of the group. She always thinks she is not a medic, like her son... is... but she had helped and saved the lives of other people on many occasions.

She looks through her jacket, and pulls out one of her salvaged photography. The one that depicts her son, Vaughn Aleksandros Zander, and her nephew, Vincent Nathaniel Hudson. The boys she raised and loved them a lot. One of them was long gone even before the bombs, went down as a hero, in the war. The other one... she still thinks he is still alive, in the Vault, or at least her grandson Shaun had also survived and thrives now. She gently runs her thumb over the photography, before putting it back in her jacket.

Libby then looks over, but the road seems clear, except for some dead trees and burned carcasses of the cars. But then her attention is drawn to something else. Or someone...

‘Hey, think there’s someone at that truck.’ she calls for attention at her group.

The other three looked where she pointed out.

‘Huh, another corpse fresh from the Vault-Tec.’

‘Pretty sure it ain’t dead.’

‘Not for long. Now come on, the Hub is over there. Y’all better cover up yer mugs, or get again shot at.’

‘And you really will leave them out there?’ Libby asked, her tone a bit firm.

‘Libby, don’t fuckin’ do it again! We can’t help any stray out there!’

‘That “stray” is also a human, like us.’

‘Then it better use your face as practice shooting!’

‘Go fuck yourself. I catch you up later.’ Libby said, and went to the truck’s direction.

She figured it out that the... vaultie is not dead, but she noticed their stained suit. They seemed to rest, as they had their head on their knees.

‘Hey. Are you alright? Do you need help, darling?’ she said in her usual motherly tone.

___________________

She stirred from her sleep, feeling her back stiff. She heard the coarse, but very gentle voice. As she could sworn she heard her grandmother talking. But.. she was long gone.

‘Huh? What? Hey, I don’t want trouble!’ Noné said, looking up. But before her, there stands a person that seemed to be a burnt victim, yet she has a very unusual warm smile. She yelps a bit, and gets up, pointing her gun to the intruder. ‘What the fuck? Are you a zombie? Get out!’ her voice is trembling, as her finger on the trigger.

She heard the... person sighing, and sees that they raise their hands a bit.

‘Look, darling, I know I look repulsive, but I don’t mean any harm. I seen you there, and thought you need help.’

‘Wh-why? What? What are you? You look horrible! Why you don’t have your nose?’

The person shakes their head. 

‘Darling, I’m your first ghoul, right?’

The look on her face had gave the stranger the answer they expected.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Longitudinalwaveme Reviews Some More Old Comics (and One New One), Part 2

Batman #321, “Dreadful Birthday, Dear Joker...!” 

The story opens with Commissioner Gordon receiving an invitation to the Joker’s birthday party. “Black tie optional, funny hats mandatory”. A few seconds later, everyone in police headquarters doubles over laughing, the victims of Joker’s, well, Joker gas. 

Batman is on the scene only a few seconds later, and starts punching out Joker’s goons. Unfortunately, by the time he’s finished doing this, both Joker and Commissioner Gordon have disappeared. 

Eminently Quotable Joker: “Ah---the Batman! What an expected surprise! And what a waste of a perfectly good window! Couldn’t you have used the door?” 

As Joker leaves in his Jokermobile, the police officers tell Batman that the Joker also captured Robin earlier that day (by pretending to be a woman with car problems!) 

Meanwhile, Selina Kyle, Lucius Fox, and Alfred are talking when the Joker bursts in and kidnaps them as well. Notably, Selina mentions that she’s been having terrible headaches. 

Selina Kyle wakes up in a room with Batman; the other kidnapees wake up in the Joker’s “Ha-Hacienda” on his “victim-go-round”. 

Eminently Quotable Joker: “Tomorrow is my birthday, and by way of celebration, I intend to eliminate all you who’ve crossed me, while all of Gotham watches! It’s not exactly the catcher’s mitt I really wanted...but it’s a pretty fair second place! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” 

Hawkman stars in a Hostess cupcake ad! 

The Joker murders one of his own henchman with his “BANG!” flag gun for not laughing at his joke. 

Eminently Quotable Joker (in response to Robin saying “You’re out of your mind!”): “Gloriously so! Isn’t it wonderful?” 

In order to get his audience, the Joker put an ad in the newspaper that states that the “Harlequin Baking Company” will be inviting all of Gotham to  sample its wares at the Seaside Coliseum. AND IT WORKS, because everyone in Gotham has the IQ of turnips. A bazillion people come to the Coliseum to get free food. 

Joker dramatically reveals himself to everyone and explains that he’s going to blow up all the people he hates with a giant cake bomb. Then Batman arrives and offers himself in exchange for the other hostages. This goes exactly how you’d expect it to go, but Batman manages Batman his way out of the trap, saving both himself and all of his friends. 

Joker runs away and jumps into a boat. Batman follows him, they fight for a bit, and then the Joker apparently blows himself up. But he’s not dead, because nothing can kill the Joker. Batman even says so. 

This would’ve made a great episode of B:TAS. 

Batman #322, “Chaos--Coming and Going!” 

And now for something completely different! 

Catwoman looks at a bunch of old newspaper clippings of herself, as the comic hints fairly subtly that she might be unwell (just as her headaches last issue did). 

Meanwhile, a van is delivering issues of the tabloid The Gotham Guardian...when a thrown bundle of newspapers is intercepted by a boomerang! Captain Boomerang is in Gotham City! 

The two men in the van react by promptly trying to run Digger over....only for him to slice their van in half with a boomerang!

Digger yells at them to tell their boss that this was only a warning: the mysterious boss owes him a million dollars, and he wants it in 24 hours or else. 

Then Batman shows up out of nowhere and he and Boomerang get into a fight. Digger distracts Batman by using his exploding boomerang to damage a nearby building. This causes some rubble to fall on one of the drivers. Batman goes to rescue him, and Digger vanishes. 

Green Arrow stars in a Hostess fruit pie ad! 

Batman talks to Alfred about Captain Boomerang, telling him to ask Lucius Fox to find out who owns the Guardian, since he’s probably Boomerang’s next target. He also refuses to call the Flash in for help. “The night I can’t handle a punk like Boomerang is the night I hang up my cowl!” 

Catwoman goes to a doctor and it’s confirmed that she is, in fact, dying. She has less than a month to live and the only cure is some Egyptian herbs that have been lost to time. 

Meanwhile, Captain Boomerang lets us know that he hates Gotham. “Lor’, but I hate this cronky town! I never would’ve come her from Central City if it wasn’t for my million quid!” 

Apparently, Captain Boomerang set up a retirment fund for himself and is ticked off that has money was subsequently stolen. 

“It’s really rum--downright ironic! The one time I play the game by their rules--and it’s me who gets taken for a sucker! Well, nobody crosses “Digger” Harkness--and gets away with it intact!” That’s our Digger! 

Also, he has a giant boomerang hidden under a tarp. 

Catwoman goes to the museum to see a display about cats...and conveniently, some ancient Egyptian medicinal herbs are there. Catwoman determines to take them so she can save herself. 

Batman asks the most Irish Irishman to ever walk the pages of the comic book about where he might be able to find Captain Boomerang, but he hasn’t heard anything. Then Alfred calls Batman and tells him that Lucius has discovered that the Gotham Guardian is owned by a corporation which serves as a front for a guy named Gregorian Falstaff. 

The man in question is eating dinner at a hotel when he is rudely interrupted by Captain Boomerang, who knocks out Falstaff’s bodyguard and demands his money. Falstaff plays dumb, claiming that the whole thing was an unfortunate accident and offering to write him a check. Boomerang insists that it’s cash or nothing (since he doesn’t trust Falstaff). Then Batman shows up, and Digger throws a smoke bomb boomerang that distracts Batman long enough for him to knock him out with another boomerang. 

“You gave it a fair dinkum try, cobber-but fair ain’t enough when  you’re dealin’ with the likes of me!’” Didgeridoo! Crikey! Steve Irwin! Can you tell I’m Australian yet? 

Selina Kyle tries to call Bruce but can’t get ahold of him, so she decides to take matters into her own hands and pulls out her Catwoman costume. 

When Batman comes to, he’s been tied to the giant boomerang. 

“Nothin’ permanent, mate--you’re simply tied to my giant rocket-powered boomerang! Only Flash’s super-speed saved him from the original--and without super-powers you’ll never escape this improved version!” So...which one of the giant boomerangs you used to launch the Flash into space are we talking about here, Digger? Because there’ve been at least four at this point. 

Boomerang launches the boomerang into the air and it explodes. Digger is naturally convinced that he’s killed Batman, only for Batman to promptly prove him wrong by showing up alive and well. “Nobody could possibly survive a flight on my Doomerang!” Oh, Digger...

Batman explains that he survived by “maneuvering my bonds toward the Doomerang’s rocket-jets--and the ignition-flames freed me! Then I simply slipped away under the cover of all that smoke before the Doomerang took off!” I love that Batman also calls the thing a Doomerang (with a totally straight face, mind you.) 

Then Digger throws a boomerang at Batman at the same time Batman throws a Batarang at him. But because Batman is Batman, he wins the boomerang duel and knocks Digger out. Way to take away Digger’s only accomplishment there, Batman. It’s like if Superman won any of his races against the Flash. 

Batman decides to investigate Falstaff. 

Meanwhile, at the museum, someone who looks like Catwoman is stealing one of the exhibits....

Flash #286, “The Color Schemes of the Rainbow Raider”

This issue introduces the greatest villain of all time...the dreaded Rainbow Raider! 

After a long day at work, Barry Allen is heading home...only for an alarm to go off at the Centrex Art Museum! Barry has to promptly go into action as the Flash as Barry thinks about how tired he is. Apparently, his new police chief, Darryl Frye, has made him work overtime three times in one week alone. 

Suddenly, a rainbow appears, bewildering Barry, as it hasn’t rained for the past week. Barry runs inside the museum to find the guards crying inexplicably. Barry deduces that the thief has been altering their emotions and realizes that this is probably not one of his established Rogues. 

Sure enough, he soon comes face-to-face with the Rainbow Raider!

“Welcome, Flash! I didn’t think you and I would be meeting so soon...but sooner or later we were bound to clash! Allow me to introduce myself! I am the Rainbow Raider---the most colorful criminal this city’s ever seen!” Oh, Roy. You’re so amazingly silly, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Roy shoots a beam of blue light at Barry, who somehow deduces that this was what enabled him to mess with the emotions of the guards. Barry dodges the blast of blue light, but it hit and knocked out by a blast of black light. 

The police are suitably baffled by the Rainbow Raider, who, incidentally, signed his crime scene with “The Rainbow Raider was here!” That’s amazing. 

Meanwhile, the Flash runs home, for the Rainbow Raider has...uh....sucked all of the color out of his body! Somehow! Wha? 

Meanwhile, in a mobile trailer, Roy is gloating to himself. “Now I know I’m ready for the big leagues--on a par with seasoned criminals like Captain Cold and Mirror Master!” Uh...sure, Roy. 

Batman and Catman star in a Hostess cupcake ad! 

“Roy G. Bivolo is compelled by higher motivations--like art appreciation!” 

Roy reveals that he suffers from achromotopsia, a rare form of colorblindness that means he sees the world entirely in greyscale. This fact apparently scuppered his burgeoning artistic career, because the art critics of Central City have never heard of black-and-white artwork even though it totally exists. 

Also, Roy’s dad was apparently a, quote, “leading world-renowned optometrist”, and he tried to create goggles that would allow Roy to see color. He passed away shortly after Roy turned 21; having finished the googles just days before. 

When Roy tested them a few weeks later, he found that they hadn’t cured his colorblindness...but that they could shoot out “bands of multi-colored solid light particles that I could literally “ride” through the sky”. Roy then uses his father’s notes to unlock even more abilities with his goggles. Eventually, his mother also passed away, and Roy decided to turn to crime. 

“Since I was robbed of a brilliant art career as a painter--I think it’s only fitting that I rob others....rob them of the pleasure they’ve derived all these years from priceless works of art I myself have never been able to enjoy! If I can’t see them in all their glory---then neither will anyone else!” Roy...that’s insane. 

Barry Allen fails in his attempt to flirt with Fiona Webb, then exposits about pseudoscience. “The color black appears black because it absorbs the light waves of all other colors...without reflecting them! Those black beams the Rainbow Raider enveloped me with must’ve had a similar effect--saturating my body with radiation that prevents me from reflecting any and all light-waves...leaving me totally colorless!” SCIENCE! 

Barry uses makeup and hair day to make himself look normal. As a result, he’s 20 minutes late to work and gets chewed out by his boss. 

Also: “The unnatural inner-vibrations from this color drain are steadily sapping more and more energy from my molecules by the minute!” More SCIENCE! 

Barry is about to get to work when he hears about the opening of the Skytop Art Gallery. Assuming that this would be an ideal target for the Rainbow Raider, he goes into action as the Flash. 

Roy has created a distraction by using his emotional manipulation powers to get all of the art patrons to fight each other while he escapes. Barry runs up a building and onto Rainbow Raider’s rainbow...whereupon Raider shoots a blinding light at him, causin him to slip off the rainbow and almost fall to his doom. Luckily, his ability to vibrate through anything saves his life, as he manages to vibrate through a green car he was about to land on. 

Barry then finds that he’s turned totally green. ‘I must’ve been vibrating on the precise wavelength of the color green when I passed through this heap--somehow allowing me to regain my capacity to absorb green light-waves!” SCIENCE! He then starts running through vehicles of other colors to regain his capacity to absorb those light-waves, too. Since Raider is colorblind, he can’t figure out what the Flash is up to. 

When Raider takes one last blast at the Flash, the effects restore him to normal, and Flash is able to make quick work of the Rainbow Raider. 

I love the Rainbow Raider so much.

[precisemuseum]

Puyo Puyo PC-98 Manual Translation

Once upon a time, in the age when the power of magic was bestowed upon the world, a powerful sorcerer created a great spell named "Owanimo." One of the strongest spells of all, it could banish monsters to a space between dimensions, but he sealed it away, recording it only in his "Book of Magic." 

Not because it was forbidden knowledge or incredibly hard to use, but because to him, it seemed useless. And thus, the spell entered a dormant state, awaiting a day when a new sorcerer would come forth...

Years came and went until finally, the seal came undone with the appearance of a great sorceress: Arle Nadja. One day, this auburn-haired girl with golden eyes came across the Book of Magic.

"Owanimo...?" Arle studied the chapter on forbidden spells for what seemed like hours. "When four monsters of the same color are in your sights, chant this spell loudly. The Goddess of Time shall listen, and whisk the monsters away to a space between dimensions." 

Arle continued to read, learning the Owanimo spell, but then closed it with a heavy sigh once she finished.

Why set it aside like that? Well, Arle had never seen "four monsters of the same color" as the spellbook described. 

"I spent so much time reading, and it's not even a spell I can use for anything..." 

But just as fate brought the Book of Magic into Arle's hands by chance, so it brought from the world of darkness the very monsters she had read about.

And thus, a great battle awaits. With her great magic abilities, and the newfound power of "Owanimo," Arle Nadja sets out to protect the world.

CHARACTERS A・C・P

Arle Nadja The protagonist of the game and the (aspiring) sorceress who released the spell "Owanimo". Nobody knows how she ended up this way, but despite looking like she wouldn't hurt a fly, she's actually a merciless girl that slaughters innocent Puyo. She currently attends a magic school, but she's already too scary for anything to stand in her way. That's my opinion, anyway.

Carbuncle During the game, when you find your eyes moving towards the center of the screen... Awww~! He's sleeping!!! This is Carbuncle. When he's lying still, he almost looks like a loaf of bread, but as he sings and dances he shows off a wide range of movement and facial expressions. A truly profound deuteragonist.

Puyo Puyo Despite their fate as short-lived, jelly-like monsters who are stacked and popped, they have managed to secure a leading role this time around, and even get to dance on the title screen. They're sure to enjoy this special opportunity to perform on a grand stage in five different colors. Looking at them with an empty stomach will reveal their appetizing nature and make you hungry. Hehe.

Arle, the protagonist, is brimming with curiosity.

PRACTICE STAGE ENEMY MONSTERS

Skeleton T While he appears as the epitome of a tea-loving Japanese man, he is a fine monster as well. He will be the first opponent you face during your trials. But you'll find that in a rather endearing way, he's a miserable fool who doesn't even know how to rotate his Puyo. Boohoo. Sipping bitter green tea during battle will instantly make you one of his tea-drinking buddies.

Nasu Grave An eggplant. Specifically, a Kamo eggplant. On top of that, he makes for a rather strange presence. Just what the heck is this thing? Despite appearances, his defensive power is high, so novices might find themselves struggling a bit. You'll have no choice but to keep at it and apply a steady technique. But in the end, your opponent is still just an eggplant. A regular talking eggplant. …Heh.

Mummy Even though it's called Mummy, it isn't a mommy. It's a mummy. What? You already knew that? Oh, deary me, I'll wrap it up then. (←One-man comedy routine.) Mummy is an opponent that makes you want to bully it because the crying face it makes when it's about to lose is just too cute. Sorry, Mummy.

The Goddess of Time whisking the monsters away.

BATTLE STAGES 1-6

Draco Centauros As you might expect from someone who shouts "Rawr", this half-dragon being takes pride in those sharp horns. Appearing as the first obstacle of your quest, this opponent has top tier judgment and piece precision but takes forever to think things through. Because of that, she's a pitiful lass who is only ranked as a third-rate monster girl... You heard me right! Draco is a girl. I'm sure someone around you thought she was a boy...

Suketoudara A pollock who has an aura of coming from some far-off sea. However, he seems to have the character of an Edokko​. He's an athletic-type who tends to err on the side of caution. However, he's also arrogant. When he wins, he makes a face that screams "You're no match for me!", which is truly aggravating. Many say they especially don't want to lose to him.

(TL Note: Literally meaning “Child of Edo”, Edokko is refers to a person born and raised in Edo (renamed Tokyo in 1868). It implies personality traits such as being assertive, straightforward, cheerful, perhaps a bit mercantile.)

Sukiyapodes Let's just get this out of the way; he has a giant foot. It measures about 16 mon. Even though he has a complex about it, he directs that frustration into bettering himself. Well, we're not sure if that last part's true, but he always has a cheerful expression on his face as he slowly and steadily builds precise chains. He's a bit of an unpleasant guy.

(TL Note: mon is a unit of length for measuring the size of one's foot. 1 mon is equivalent to 2.4 cm. His foot is 38.4 cm, or 15.12 in.)

Harpy Now then, it is time for Miss Harpy's song. She loves singing more than she loves having three meals a day. She could sing for ages if no one stopped her. If there was something like a "Puyo Puyo World Karaoke Tournament", she'd win for sure. But unfortunately, this is only Puyo Puyo. 

Sasori Man “How d'ya do, partner? I’m a famous Naniwa salesman known 'round these parts as Sasori Man. Put 'er there! Huh? Yer askin' for my secret to success? I ain't spillin' the beans no matter how much ya beg. That's somethin' to look forward to when we do battle. Till then, happy trails.”

Panotty A flute-playing boy. But honestly, he's nothing more than a noisy, mischievous brat. He disrupts his opponent's chains by dropping large amounts of Nuisance Puyo on them. Everyone has fallen victim to his antics at least once. What a truly ruthless Puyo technique. For when his last flute sounds, the dead shall be raised. Just kidding.

BATTLE STAGES 7-12

Zombie A zombie. All of his lines are stuff like "Ugheeee." This zombie is quite the formidable trickster. Sometimes he will be swiftly defeated, and other times he will take you by surprise and suddenly pull off a huge chain. If you don't take him seriously, you'll find yourself in a tough spot. Battle with caution.

Witch In the forest stands a grand mansion. Living there was a very ordinary family whose lineage can be traced back hundreds of years. The family's only daughter was born and was raised in a very ordinary fashion. But there was one thing that was not so ordinary...That young lady was a haughty witch. Ohohoho! Ohohohoho... *fadeout*

Zou Daimaou Pawoo! The mammoth mogul has arrived! A young aristocrat who comes from an ancient and distinguished line of royal Indian elephants. An irritating fellow who likes bad puns, gives his words an elephantine quality, and casually rhymes. He also enjoys Puyo Puyo. Plus, he's strong. An aphant-garde aristocrat whose ground-shaking chains are as sharp as his tusks.

Schezo A silver-haired man with deep blue eyes. Schezo, the embodiment of picturesque beauty. However, he's been deemed a pervert thanks to Arle, and strives to restore his honor by challenging her. 

B-E-A-U-T-Y! Perfection won't pass you by!  P-R-I-N-C-E! Of the Puyo Puyo World, it's meant to be! Go now! Go forth! Show us what you're really worth! 

...Well, this has turned into something rather silly..

Minotauros Risking life and limb for his duties, a bull who lives by the code of chivalry, leaving a flurry of cherry blossoms in his wake. That is Minotauros. Ever since Rulue rescued him long ago, he has served as her devoted attendant like a faithful dog. Seeing him like this brings some to tears. For Rulue, he'd go through hell and high water. He's giving it his all today, and his one-eyed look is as cool as ever.

Rulue A woman truly worthy of the title of "Fighting Queen". The queen of the Puyo Puyo world. There's nothing that she can't obtain... Oh wait, there is something — Satan's love. Possessing a very jealous nature, Rulue is always lying in wait, ready to obliterate anyone who gets close to Satan. It's rumored that her true strength is even greater than Satan's.

BATTLE STAGE 13

Satan He is the king that rules over heaven and earth. He soars the skies with wings that slice through wind. His two horns point towards the heavens. His sharp eyes are like glistening gems. Cloaked in the veil of night, his devilish hand beckons you in. He is darkness’s cherished protege. It seems playing Puyo Puyo is a guilty pleasure of his. His true strength is unknown. It's said he's won the Puyo Puyo World Championship a countless number of times. In any case, he's obviously a bigshot. Can you truly defeat Satan, who boasts of elite skills in speed and chaining?

(You can download the PDF here)

[absolutelyinvinciblebritishgent]

What if the Sound Trio survived and became Leaf ninjas?

Headcanons under the cut (bitch, it’s a lot of headcanons)

~ Chunin Exam Finals/Invasion~

Dosu was shown to be suspicious of Orochimaru because of the whole Sasuke/curse mark thing and seemed like he wasn’t wanting to be a part of Orochimaru’s shit anymore so he’s the one who realizes something is up

Rather than face Gaara he somehow finds out about sand’s allegiance with sound (overhearing Baki and Kabuto on the way to Gaara, eavesdropping on Orochimaru [because, again, sus], etc...) and that’s what pushes him to defect from sound (also how he manages to live)

Dosu, Zaku, and Kin aren’t necessarily close, but in the anime Dosu did sort of say he was gonna get revenge on behalf of Zaku for what happened to his arms so there is a sense of something there (whether it be friendship, camaraderie, or just wanting to stick together to survive... idk) and Dosu tells his teammates what’s up and convinces them that they gotta GTFO

Zaku is a little more difficult to convince because why would Orochimaru do that to him? He saved Zaku from being a street rat, he gave Zaku power

Dosu ain’t having it and is like “if you wish to stay behind then that is your decision, in the end it is better for us to not have to carry any dead weight” (obviously referring to Zaku’s inability to do anything because of his arms)

Dosu then proceeds to tell Zaku how he no longer serves a purpose without his arms and he was nice enough to still want to take Zaku with him, Orochimaru would not be so kind

Zaku is upset because he knows Dosu has a point and they all leave

They (read: Dosu) decide that their best chance of survival is staying in Konoha because, the minute they leave, the sound village/Orochimaru will be gunning for their asses and also they’d be missing-nin, so others would try to kill them too

But what can they do to assure they don’t get imprisoned or killed due to having worked under Orochimaru? Rat out the sound village and give all the information they know/found out about the invasion and sand’s involvement

Third Hokage is a cool dude and also was Orochimaru’s teacher so he knows the kind of power this bitch can have over people which is why he agrees to let the sound trio stay and have them watched by Anbu

Dosu does not participate in the chunin exam finals because witness protection, or something

The invasion still happens because Orochimaru ain’t stupid. His “pawns” are nowhere to be found so it’s likely they’re betraying him, so obviously he makes changes to the plan

Dosu, Kin, and Zaku do not participate in fighting off the invasion because, uh, super strict house arrest orders???

Third Hokage dies and this FREAKS the trio out because a) oh shit Orochimaru actually did it and b) we’re only allowed to be here because of him, so what’s going to happen to us

Council is deciding what to do with them and has them staying hidden/as they were, but what’s more important to them is finding Tsunade and having her take over as Hokage so the trio are just anxiously chilling

Tsunade is Hokage now and she decides to let them stay because they turned their backs on Orochimaru and also she trusts Sarutobi’s judgment on letting them stay initially, but they are still going to be watched by Anbu to be sure

Naruto and co. find out about the trio and they are PISSED because “not only did you try to kill Sasuke, not only are you from the village that attacked us, not only did you work for Orochimaru but you did nothing to defend Konoha during the invasion. If you want to be a part of this village then you should have helped”

Tsunade tells these bitches to simmer down. They were under Anbu house arrest. She’s Hokage and they need to respect her decision. Also Zaku, let’s fix your arms.

~Sasuke Retrieval Arc~

Everyone is immediately on the trio’s ass because “we knew you couldn’t be trusted”

Tsunade has to tell everyone to stfu again

The trio want to go (to prove themselves) and feel they can be of assistance but Tsunade is like Catherine of Aragon because she says there’s no no no no NO WAY. It’s already a dangerous mission, it might be more so for them because Orochimaru is probably after their heads for betraying him and knows all of their skills

Everything about the arc is the same until the point where Shikamaru, Kiba, and Lee need help. Instead of the Sand Siblings being the ones to arrive it’s the sound trio

Zaku saves Kiba... mainly because I imagine them being friends once the trio are accepted and I just want this to be the beginning of their friendship. How he saves him idk because I’m not creative when it comes to fights

Kin saves Shikamaru. Again idk how. Zaku’s slicing sounds waves make more sense here because they work similar to Temari’s fan but I want it to be Kin because kunoichi vs. kunoichi, genjutsu vs. genjutsu, and also the idea of Kin saving the guy who beat her in such an embarrassing way does something to me, but also is a sort of redemption? I just want this battle to show off how skilled Kin can be because she was very underutilized and kinda weak in the original story and I love her so much, she deserves to do cool shit. So let her outsmart Tayuya and, in a way, she is outsmarting Shikamaru because he had no more plans to fall back on

Dosu saves Lee. Again, idk how and, again, I think Zaku’s slicing sound waves would be better here because they can keep Kimimaro (a close range fighter) at bay but I guess seeing Dosu and Kimimaro throwing hands would be cool. And then you have that redemption moment with Lee because Dosu kicked his ass in the forest of death and now he’s saving Lee!

After the mission, despite its failure, the trio are accepted as leaf shinobi and are introduced to their new sensei: cue Anko crashing through the window with a big sign introducing herself again

Similarly to the moment when Naruto spoke out and Anko threw a kunai at him, Zaku gives a snide comment and Anko is immediately at his throat, and then she’s like “JK! But don’t say that again you little shit!”

Anko was chosen to lead the trio due to her past with Orochimaru and because of that she can better understand them

~Other Headcanons~

It took the Konoha 12 a while to accept the trio. The first ones to accept them were Kiba, Lee, and Shikamaru (duh) but also Choji and even Naruto. Choji became cool with them when he found out Shikamaru was cool with them because he trusts Shikamaru’s judgment, and despite originally trying to kill his teammate, Naruto accepts them because they came out and helped so that means they’re a-okay in his book. Neji was slightly taken aback but also accepted them pretty quickly. Basically, the retrieval team was like “yeah okay” and vouch for them.

The ones who took the longest to come around were Ino and Sakura because did y’all just forget what happened at the forest of death???

As I said, I imagine Kiba and Zaku being friends. Mainly because I feel they have similar personalities in the sense that they’re both pretty cocky, boisterous, and talk shit. I imagine them kinda being like rivals in the sense of they’re always trying to one up each other

Zaku is still not fond of Shino because of the whole bugs in arms thing so whenever Shino is around Zaku is just like “I hate your teammate” to Kiba

Kin/Shikamaru could potentially replace the Temari/Shikamaru relationship. Both Kin and Temari are very similar in the sense of being an ex-villain, being viewed as scarier/more intense compared to the Konoha girls, being older by a couple years, and they both lost (well, Temari technically won but we all know she lost) to Shikamaru. Because of this the Kin/Shikamaru relationship wouldn’t be all that different to how the Temari/Shikamaru relationship is shown

That being said I love the sand siblings and don’t want them gone and because of how similar I feel Kin and Temari are they become really good friends and Kin enjoys when Temari visits. They both make Shikamaru’s life hell though. Double Trouble™️

Also I said potentially because I like exploring the idea of Kin/Zaku or Kin/Dosu (:

Dosu and Shino actually get along really well (much to the dismay of Zaku). They’re the type of people where they can sit in silence with each other and it’s just chill. And when they have to work together they kinda have flawless teamwork and don’t even need to speak to know what the other plans on doing

Kin and Sakura actually get along now? They’re not best friends by any means but they can be civil and respect each other

Team Kurenai and Team Sand are the teams that the trio get along with the best/most easily tho

Kin cut her hair to her lower back. Cue everyone cracking jokes about Neji and Kin looking the same from behind. Kin stops tying her hair after that

The trio have really well trained ears because back in Otogakure they had to learn to pick up on the subtlest of sounds in order to spy on enemies and communicate at such a low volume that to any normal ear sounds like silence but to them the message is loud and clear

Because of this they’re all amazing singers (Dosu is the best tho because he has the best trained ear. Seriously, being able to tell what someone is writing based on the sounds of their pencil? Skills.) and everyone likes hearing them sing.

That being said, despite being from the land of sound they didn’t actually know any songs because the sound village doesn’t really do music. It was forbidden because no one is allowed joy in the land of sound. Jk. But it did have to do with depriving people of normalcy because Orochimaru was creating an army of followers

This little singing/music tidbit was discovered by Naruto and he took it upon himself to show the trio music. It wasn’t all good music, but it’s music!

Also, despite being the best singer, Dosu doesn’t really do it. Dude doesn’t even hum. He’ll only sing if Kin and Zaku start pestering or if Anko wants him to

The first (and only) time Kin and Zaku saw Dosu cry was shortly after they became leaf shinobi. Anko and Tsunade were telling the team how brave it was for them to leave Orochimaru and sound behind, and Anko especially complimented Dosu on taking him and his team out of that situation. Kin and Zaku had been trying to hold back tears and keep up their tough image but the minute they saw Dosu crying, not trying to wipe away his tears or hide them or anything they lost it

No one talks about their little crying session. It’s a secret

Despite getting his arms fixed by Tsunade, Zaku still has problems with them, especially his right one (I think that’s the one that got blown off) and needs to get them treated consistently. Partly due to the fact they he didn’t give himself all the time to heal after Tsunade fixed him because he went to help the retrieval team and, mainly, because of Orochimaru’s experiments. Like, essentially Zaku’s air tube surgery was actually kind of botched and, for lack of a better term, experimental, and is fucking with the nerves and muscles and chakra in his arms and kinda eating away at them. And the crazy damage he took from getting his arms blown off only fucked everything up more

Eventually Zaku gets a better version of his air tube in his left arm and has to completely replace the right arm with a cool prosthetic that lets him do stronger/cooler jutsus

Kin has combined singing with her genjutsu and has created a sort of mind control jutsu... I may or may not have gotten this idea while listening to Come Little Children and remembering that Sarah Sanderson would control kids with song

The trio think Sasuke is a fUCKING DUMBASS for willingly going with Orochimaru. Like, bitch we had to leave that no good asshole for the betterment of our lives and you just waltz out of Konoha and straight into his arms?! What is you doing Uchiha?!

[dog-day-morning]

YOU OWE THEM NOTHING

People can be self-righteous when it comes to what they think God is supposed to do if, and when they call on Him. God is not a genie in a bottle that you rub, and a jinn pops out granting you 3 or 300 wishes. The saying faith without works is dead can be applied here. Have you ever heard of or read the book Daniel Webster and the devil? This tall tale or folklore legend was about a man who made a deal with old Slew Foot, and when it was time to pay up he had 2nd thoughts. Satan never plays fair. He's forever putting us in positions where we find ourselves desperate for a quick solution to a temporary problem that only leads to a difficult end. The Latin term for buyer beware is caveat emptor, and Satan knows how to spell. The power of a wicken comes from their basic weapon of spelling or casting spells by word of mouth. Even the Bible tells us that “Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.” Tell that to a Nicolaitan. Those who make deals with the most unclean should expect to suffer in the end. Never trust the father of lies who deals in treachery, and deceit. I look back at my mother's life and wonder if God had ever intervened for her, and fought her battles that surely He and only He would be able to deliver her from, and He has. Life is hard, for many it’s a nightmare that’s ongoing. Satan comes to you when you're at your weakest or most vulnerable in the hopes of snaring your soul into eternal suffering. Jesus comes to deliver us from death, sin, and temptations that confuse us in our trek towards His truth. If you have any aspirations of entertaining people with your gifted voice or your talent for playing lead guitar, don’t sign a contract that promises you the world only to find out you owe them your sweet ass which a man of honor wouldn't consider let alone make you cosign your body for their horn dog appeasement.

Revelation 2:9

9 I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich) and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews, and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan.

You're abundantly rich in spirit Yacob. Now’s the time to claim your position. These bastards have taken everything from you leaving your ancestors nothing but dust. If they could remove us off the face of the Earth they would. They're plotting to do so as you and I breathe, that's why the Father never sleeps. They are demon spawns who say they worship, and believe in God, but whose god, and what righteous god tells you to destroy a people with his blessing knowing what the children of Japheth have done to them historically? The spawns of Satan want your penuche, mouth, titties, and a-hole for their pleasure along with your talent that Justin Timberlake does not have. The new faces of R&B do not look like the people I grew up listening to or the race of people whose songs left an everlasting impression on my bleeding heart that helped me through my ill-fated, miserable existence. Robin Thicke, Christina Aguilera, K-Pop, the BackStreet Boys, and New Kids on the Block. Some of these groups are defunct, but they’re cranking out as many as they possibly can like Justin Bieber, and Demi Lovato. I just saw on YouTube where people were considering if Elvis Presley was Black, WTF?!! He was the biggest culture thief that Dr. Frankenstein, AKA Colonel Parker ever created. Man is cruel; Satan is a whole other type of bastard you shouldn’t entertain. I'm retarded. Some call me an idiot savant. YO MOMMA!!! People are blessed by the Father who has blessed many of us with gifts. There are many of you whom God has endowed with multiple talents that people would sell their soul in order to possess just one. If you're anointed by God to sing like Aretha Franklin may He lead you to sign with a label like Brother Carl Crawford's who won't make the same mistake he did with a very popular artist at this moment. More than likely you'll sign a contract entrusting your talent, blessing, and soul to the most unclean ones. Ain’t a reason in hell you should bow down or bend over for a leach like Mr. Friedman so he can butt bone your a-hole while enriching himself off your God given talents. God blesses those who seek him out, and those that don’t. I don’t know if Eddie Murphy went to Church, and sowed an offering every Sunday to God praying that the Father would make him the highest paid comedic actor in his prime. Richard Pryor was anointed in the womb to be the most blessed comedic talent, and influential comedian to ever walk this Earth bar none yet he and Mr. Murphy pursued their dreams in different ways with both of them becoming world renown. I'm inclined to ask, was it worth it?

Mark 8:36

For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

The synagogue of Satan isn’t a trending pop culture manifestation that’s to be esteemed, cherished, or envied. These cults are trying to maintain a stranglehold on a world that’s not meant for them or their sort. People who play with Ouija boards or childhood games like Bloody Mary, and light as a feather are ushering dark spirits into their homes leaving their loved ones exposed to something sinister. Get the hell away from me and mine unless you're my sister, AKA Ms. Skunk Funk, who needs to get the crust burnt off her musty, dusty drawers. The whore of Don Juan has a death wish. Explain to me how running with the devil beats walking with God?

Isaiah 59:7

7 Their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed innocent blood: their thoughts are thoughts of iniquity; wasting and destruction are in their paths.

This Nation was built on our ancestor’s blood, sweat, and relentless faith. Believe me when I say there's strength in every tear. I pray to God that I don’t shed anymore of them. Their wealth is not. It's a stolen Promise that the Father shall reward His children with. Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it. The most glaring, and frustrating example that is also bitter and disheartening I can give you is our Promised Inheritance called Yisrael that the gentiles are squatting on. When a person or in this case a tribe or race of people believe in their own lies they've become reprobate; they're lost.

Revelation 3:9

9 Behold, I will make them of the synagogue of Satan, which say they are Jews, and are not, but do lie; behold, I will make them to come and worship before thy feet, and to know that I have loved thee.

This is what all of Esau's children fear. It's why the bland, colored people of the world are flipping over the Earth's axis, and killing us without any probable cause. They are a lawless people who've displayed their lack of empathy, and humanity for anyone save their own breed, they behave like blood hounds. I've become content with this planet being void of water (Holy Spirit.) Black people suffer from a social disorder called the crab bucket mentality. We hate to see anyone rise up, and we’ll do whatever it takes to keep them down or discourage them. That person may possess something that can benefit the collective, who cares. He who possesses that blessing needs to haul tail ASAP before the winter comes knowing the Father will bless him, and a downtrodden people beyond their wildest dreams. This is why Yeshua, and His Father call us children. It's why I pray, and bemoan to the Father daily that He slays me, putting the fear of the Lord in the heathen and His Son Christ Jesus uses us for His purpose. God doesn't need us, we need Him. He's given us so much power, and authority. When you acquire it, use it for something other than satisfying your sinful, carnal, flesh minded desires. Men, don't behave like horn dogs, and women do not behave as Aholah, and Aholibah, 2 whores.

Numbers 32:24

24 Build you cities for your little ones, and folds for your sheep; and do that which hath proceeded out of your mouth.

Out of thine own mouth you have power to tread over snakes and scorpions. You can exorcise demons and devils out of your present life braking generational curses which is what I' want for a family that's disowned me. To God be the glory. God is telling us to declare a thing, and claim it. What a mighty, just God we serve. Your tongue will become a weapon to use against the lawless ones who use theirs recklessly in their attempts to get us arrested or murdered by local, and federal authorities. You can call it giving them a taste of their own medicine, it isn't. You're reclaiming what they've taken, stolen, including those of us they've murdered.

Isaiah 54:17

17 No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord.

The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. Speak positive prayers out loud if you can. If you live with your family or have a roommate pray in the closet. You'll have favor with God that many people won't. They rebuked the Lord, and their anger did tear perpetually, and they kept their wrath forever. When they use their privilege, which is what we call it more often than they, comprehending they’re fully aware knowing they use it with a Demonic, driven hatred. They persecute Black men, women, and children for reasons that are not godly, and the Father does not condone. They, and all the Earth will have to answer for our individual sins against the Father in the end.

Luke 10:19

19 Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.

We don’t worship the same god as they do. They're praying to a god to erase us off the face of the Earth. Why hasn't he?.

Exodus 1:12

12 But the more they afflicted them, the more they multiplied and grew. And they were grieved because of the children of Israel.

Their birth rate is dropping steadily. For the first time in the history of the census they decreased in population globally while indigenous, and other races of people stayed steady or in our case increased. This is the reasoning behind these draconian abortion laws. They're trying to preserve themselves while God is eliminating the Earth of their bloody dominion. God is sending the wicked a message before the storm comes, but no one's listening. Their violence towards us is documented, and more often it's unprovoked. They continue with the guilty until proven worthy of their mercy dogmatic mantra which is racist BS. The Earth will be lulled back to sleep. When they're confident that their world isn't in danger of being challenged by anyone, especially us. That's when God will do things that will scare them right back to the caucasus mountains bringing destruction to those who've touched, bruised, and abused the Apple of His eye. Speak life into your angel spirit, don’t entertain the demon seed that's trying to kill you, and the rest of Earth's indigenous people. You have much authority, use it. Elohim. 9/23/2021

[anon-e-miss]

Yes! Dryad!prowl story continues! I can't wait to see Prowl and Bluestreak family reunion!

“I don’t understand,” Jazz said.

“My seed crystal does not root in the ground but in the bark of trees or outcrops,” the dryad explained. He placed his servo against the ground and dimmed his optics. Jazz stared at his face, the tense line of his jaw. When the dryad released a harsh vent, Jazz drop his optics. A slender flower stock with broad black leaves had grown up from the ground at the tips of the dryad’s long digits. As Jazz watched, the bloom opened. It was a perfect pearl white with striking red tips. Flowers like these had covered the grotto, they had been the dryad’s doing. They were absolutely beautiful. “We shelter from harsh weather and twist our roots to the sun and sky.”

“How do that make ya a parasite?”

“We live our lives on the trunks of our brethren. Our roots do not give strength to the Grove. Worse, we can steal strength from the grove by leeching it from our hosts and what grows in the soil within our range.”

“Ya can kill. Like ya did the garden”

“Yes.”

“It’s different, sure,” Jazz said. “But anyone can kill wit the right motivation. Wit a knife, wit a plaster, wit their fist.

“You are not perturbed.”

“Nah. I can’t imagine ya make a habit o’ draining yer kin. It don’t serve ya to hurt yer hosts.”

“No. The Grove is our protection too. It does not serve my kin to harm our brethren.”

“What’s yer designation?” Jazz asked.

“Why?”

“Ya deserve to be called somethin’ other than it.”

“Prowl.”

“I give ya my glyph, Prowl, what little it’s worth to ya, I’ll get ya ‘n yer bitty home safe.”

“I will not tell you where the Grove is hidden,” Prowl said.

“I figured as much,” Jazz replied. “But ya can tell me where to take ya. Anywhere in the world. I won’t bring yer bitty back here. I promise ya, Prowl ya can’t trust Vortex to mind his manners. He don’t got any.”

Prowl looked to Jazz with tears glimmering at the sides of his optics. If not for the tears he would have looked stoic. Jazz was being unkind, he was not too stupid to realize this but he did not know what else to say, or how else to convince the dryad to just come along. He did not believe Prowl wanted to be here, and he imagined that if Jazz brought the bitty back here, provided Swindle did not drop in on him, the dryad would bolt with his creation. Maybe he could make it on his own, but Prowl was injured. Welts and scrapes covered his frame where he had fought against those ugly chains. Them and his immobilized arm would attract unwanted attention. Any vulnerability was potentially lethal threat. The Empties, as their betters called them took care of their own however they could, but there were limits.  When their betters came looking for prey, it was every bot for his or herself. Even if one of Swindle’s minions did not spot Prowl, he was too easy a target. Jazz could not in good conscience send him and the bitty out on their own. It would have been so much easier if he just did not fragging care, but he did.

“You are forcing my servo,” Prowl said. The tears, angry tears Jazz thought, did not fall, but neither did they disappear. Somehow the emotion feeding those tears did not reach Prowl’s voice. It was like he had gone flat.

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed. There as no point in denying it. Prowl cocked his helm ever so slightly, measuring him. The tears dried up.

“I want Bluestreak.”

“Bluestreak,” Jazz smiled from audial to audial as he repeated the designation. It was fitting for the bitlet. “Take my servo, Prowl. Lemme take ya to’m.”

Trusting Jazz was obviously unpalatable to Prowl, but the dryad took his servo and let Jazz guide him gently to his peds. The gentleness had Prowl tense and start to shy. He must have felt like a sheepacron knowingly being led to the slaughter. It could not have been a comfortable feeling. But love for his creation overrode everything else, and he held fast to Jazz’s wrist, and let himself be led through the dark and silent garden. Those singing crystals Jazz had stolen from the Helix Gardens at Swindle’s request were silent. Jazz thought it was fitting that the dryad Swindle had captured and chained to beautify his garden had sap the beauty from it. The rare and beautiful crystals should have been enough for him, but he had been greedy and obscene. Jazz led Prowl to a shadowed part of the wall. He wondered how Prowl was going to get over the wall. With his injured shoulder he could not even piggyback on Jazz as he climbed. There was a gate not far, but it was in view of municipal surveillance cameras. If Jazz used an EMP grenade on it the enforcers would be scrambled to the scene in breams. None of the surveillance cameras on his own street worked anymore, and when gunfire broke out you would be lucky if the enforcers turned up the next mega-cycle let alone within breams. Enforcers did not risk bullets for Empties.

“What are you wondering?” Prowl asked.

“How to get ya o’er the wall,” Jazz replied. “Don’t fancy usin’ the door. I ain’t keen on gettin’ caught on camera.”

“This wall is not monitored by surveillance cameras?”

“Nah. That’s why I chose it. This is a blind spot.”

“You are good at this.”

“Reason I ain’t dead or in lock up, Prowler.”

“Prowler...” Prowl huffed. “You are impertinent. Step back.”

Prowl dug in his peds, and stretched his good arm out to the side, his seed crystal clasped in his servo. Roots, not vines, shot out of the ground and twisted around each other as the climbed up the wall. Jazz was a little in awe, no he was a lot in awe, as he watch Prowl created a staircase out of the roots. He snapped out of his stupor as Prowl sagged and than swayed. Before the dryad could fall, Jazz was at his side, and lifting Prowl’s good arm over his shoulders, and then taking him around the waist. After moment’s resistance or hesitation, Prowl let himself lean on Jazz for support. They climbed the makeshift steps together. Though Jazz hoped this collapse was not a sign of worse to come, he was already wracking his processor over what they could do if Prowl could not recover on his own. There was only one medic Jazz trusted could not be bought but Ratchet was not doing rounds in the Dead End right now. The best thing he could do for Prowl right now was reunite him with his bitlet. To do that, they had to keep moving. They reached the top of the wall, and Jazz peered over the side. As he had hoped the street was dark and empty.

“Sit. ‘M gonna rig a cable. It gonna hurt ya if I hook into these things?”

“No,” Prowl replied as he sat, strutless on the edge of the wall. “They will collapse soon. It is difficult to maintain them.”

“Hold on just another klik,” Jazz said. He quickly hooked his grapple into the mass of vines and turned around, without pause he swung off the wall. With a servo magnetized to the wall, he shifted over so he was positioned between Prowl’s dangling legs. Jazz dug his peds into the wall. “A’ight. Slide off, I’ll catch ya.”

“You are sure?”

“I won’t drop ya.”

He did not drop Prowl when the dryad slid off the wall and more or less into his lap. Prowl was heavy, but between Jazz’s grapple and his magnets, he was not too great a load for Jazz to bare. Once Prowl looked his good arm around Jazz’s neck and his legs around his waist, holding on as best he could be expected to, Jazz slowly climbed down the wall. Jazz was relieved when his peds hit the ground. Jazz held Prowl around the waist as he straightened his legs. To his relief, Prowl’s legs did not collapse under him, and he stood under his own strength, though Jazz felt he looked unsteady. From the other side of the wall, Jazz heard the vine stairs collapsed. It was time to move. Though Prowl was on his peds now, Jazz did not trust he would keep them unaided so he immediately returned Prowl’s good arm to his shoulders and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Come on, before everyone onlines.”

Prowl kept pace. Though he straightened best as he could time and again, he was inevitably forced to lean on Jazz. He needed rest, Jazz hoped that was all he needed, and Jazz worried that Prowl would make a break for it as soon as his bitlet was back in his possession. Convincing him that his frame needed rest, else he would just end up collapsing in the streets, easy prey if Swindle came looking for him, might be the only card Jazz had to play, and he hoped he was not forced to play it. He thought the odds of Prowl acquiescing were more than just terrible. With that problem hanging over his helm, Jazz led Prowl though the dark and empty streets of the Dead End. His neighbourhood was not worthy of even the most marginal of street lighting. It was a dead end. Life here was a dead end. That was why Ricochet had gone to Kaon, he had hoped to make his an honest living, unlike the life of crime their origin and Jazz lived. His talent was more than enough that he should have been able to make it. But Ricochet had always had too hot of a temper. Like their geni, but unlike their geni there had been no desert for Ricochet to bold into when he slagged off the wrong mech.

“Just up these stairs,” Jazz declared, he started up the steps but Prowl pulled away from him. He stopped and held his servo out to Prowl. They needed to get inside.

“The windows are all boarded,” Prowl said as he looked over the building.

“Keeps bullets from bouncin’ all o’er the habsuite,” Jazz explained.

“You live like this? Your creations live like this?”

“Yeah. Not what I planned. I thought I’d make it big as a performer but no one wants to pay a scraplet to sing.”

“How will you ransom your brother without the price Lockdown promised?”

“I don’t fraggin’ know,” Jazz replied. He looked down at Prowl, frowning as he staggered back a step. “I’ll figure somethin’ out. Come on, time to see yer bitty.”

“Your originator will sell us to save him,” Prowl said.

“No!” Jazz snapped. “My Ori ain’t like that! He’s a good mech. If I hadn’t come back for ya, he woulda, ‘n he never would have let me forget how disappointed he was in me.”

Prowl hesitated but in the end he gave Jazz his servo, and let himself be supported again. About halfway up Jazz heard a shrill cry, and behind him Prowl’s engine made a low whine. The dryad pulled away from him again and staggared up the stairs. He passed Jazz, and paused at the next landing as he tried to follow the cries. With the windows blocked, it was not the easiest thing to do. Jazz smiled a little. There had never been a question that Prowl loved his creation. He had known this with utter certainty when he had heard the mech keen. Over Jazz’s life he had done some terrible things. It would have been naive to think this single deed would atone for any of it but Jazz did not believe in the Well, and if the Pit existed, the Dead End was it.

“Right through here,” Jazz said, softly as he steered Prowl to his door, and opened it.

“Jazz?” Ori called. Prowl burst through the doorway and froze. Punch locked optics with him as he held the squalling newling against his shoulder. The whine from Prowl’s systems took on a higher pitch. His legs started to buckle, and Jazz grunted as he suddenly took the whole of the mech’s weight. Prowl was spent.

“This is my Ori, Punch, Prowl. He ain’t gonna mess wit ya.”

“That’s my mechlin’,” Punch said, warmly. “Come here, love. Sit.”

Prowl over to Jazz, frowning, and Jazz smiled and said: “He means ya, Prowl. Y’re wiped off yer peds.”

Jazz half guided and half carried Prowl over to the couch, and Prowl collapsed into it. He reached to Punch, to his creation with naked need in his optics. Punch was not a cruel mech and he gently set the wailing seedling into Prowl’s arm. Bluestreak’s cries cut off mid shriek as Prowl shuffled him against his chassis as he bared his well. The seedling knew his origin’s scent and his spark and rooted about for a line. With only one servo free, Prowl could not hold Bluestreak and guide him to a line. Bluestreak, having been without his origin and without nourishment for a mega-cycle did not have the patience to find the line for himself, and he wailed as he smelled his origin’s energon. Prowl quivered, it was almost to small a movement to notice but neither Jazz nor his origin missed it. Punch crouched at Prowl’s peds.

“Would ya mind if I helped ‘m?” He asked. Prowl looked down at him, his optics wide and bright. Then he looked down at his creation, kicking and flailing as he cried.

“Please.”

“Y’re a’ight,” Punch crooned and Jazz got the idea he was speaking to both origin and creations. He brought one of Prowl’s fuel lines to the bitlet’s mouth and expressed a drop of energon onto his glossa. Bluestreak latched with such force Prowl winced. “There ya go. Jazz, get some pillows ‘n a blanket. The couch ain’t designed for doorwings but we can make it work.”

Prowl seemed to Jazz to be a little bit in awe himself now. Punch was a force of nature, and he was to his core good, at least in his own way. Counterpunch was not, but Counterpunch was a tool as Meister was to Jazz though Jazz’s alter ego was only a change of plating, and not of personality. He did not have his originator’s glitch, which was something to be grateful for. As a whole, Punch was in control but Counterpunch occasionally flared up to give him a little more of a ride. Trusting his origin with Prowl, Jazz did as he was told and stripped the blanket and pillows from his own berth and gathered them into a pile. He did it in the dark as his creations were recharging on the other side of the folding screen. Before he returned to the living room, Jazz peeked around the divider and found his creations recharging with pillows clasped over their helms. They would be happy to see bitlet and origin had been reunited when they woke in the light-cycle. It promised them a quieter mega-cycle.

“This should work,” Punch said and he arranged the pillows behind Prowl’s back, and tucked the blanket around him. “Ya took a beatin’, love. Would medgrade help ya?”

“It would help,” Prowl replied. “More so if there is quartz in the blend.”

“I’ll add some in,” Punch declared and he walked into the kitchen.

Jazz remained. He stood another half-klik before he sat on the other side of the couch and released along vent. Though he was tired, more than anything Jazz was wired. In moments like this he would normally have a shot of engex to wind down from a high stress job, but right at this moment he did not feel like drinking. Jazz knew he had not been followed, and he knew Swindle had not idea Meister was but an alter ego, and he knew Swindle’s only address for Meister was the oil bar where he met with all his clients. They were safe, but he could not convince himself to let his guard down just yet. Prowl pulled his legs up and curled around his creation, no more ready to let down his guard that Jazz. His plating first shimmered and then shone like a crystal. Jazz could not help but stare as he wondered if this might have been the dryad’s preferred form. He understood why Swindle, being Swindle, had wanted to fill his garden with dryads. Prowl was singularly stunning.

“I am beginning to believe you do, ultimately, wish to help us,” Prowl said. His voice had a harmonic to it that reminded Jazz of those singing crystals. It was as pretty to hear as the mech was to look at. Jazz forced himself to look away for fear of Prowl spooking if he caught Jazz staring.

“No one deserves to be treated like ya’ve been,” he replied. “When y’ve healed up enough to travel, I’ll take ya where ya wherever ya wanna go. Swindle ‘n Lockdown won’t get their servos on ya.”

“I do not know where I can go,” Prowl said, and he stared down at his creation.

“Home?” Jazz questioned. “Like I said, I can drop ya off within range. I don’t expect ya to take me right to yer doorstep.”

“I do not know that I can go back.”

“Why not?”

“Because I do not believe they will allow me to take Bluestreak into the grove with me.”

[defensefilms]

Defense Films Names His Top 5 Favorite Rappers

In All It’s Infinite Glory And Magnanimity, Defense Gives You His Top 5 Favorite Rappers. 

5. 50 Cent 

To this day, when you need a playlist for a MMA class and the group is hella diverse, you’re not really sure which way to go with it, pop in that 50. Can’t go wrong with Get Rich Or Die Trying (the original), or even that G-Unit Beg For Mercy.

That run from late 2002-2005/06 was unlike anything you’ll ever see again. That was a perfect situation where there was organic support from fans and there were people at a business level, mainly 50, that knew how to turn it into the wave that it became and industry has been trying to replicate this ever since.

While most people remember is the numerous scandals, beefs and controversies of that time but it was the music that moved the audience. For all the ways 50 Cent’s success mirrors ruthless American capitalism, his debut album is low key one of the most inspiring albums you’ll ever listen to. 

It’s a foxhole mentality on wax. It’s me-versus-you type thinking. It’s someone has to lose and I’ll be damned. It’s who ever has to get hit, is gonna get hit. 

See the first time I listened to it, it was about “In Da Club”, “Wanksta”, you know the more palatable records that got on radio and all that but the more I listened the more I realized, it was actually built on the backs of songs like “Patiently Waiting”, “Many Men”, “Back Down”, “Don’t Push Me” and “Gotta Make It To Heaven”. On one side it’s as motivational as you can think of but it’s not the wacky kind of naivé motivational talk because it’s willing to get it’s hands dirty and go in to much grittier ideas. 

Like his predecessors, 50 pulls off the trick of balancing easy-to-listen-to records on a foundation of graphic and aggressive songs.  

Recommended Songs: Maybe We Crazy, When It Rains It Pours

4. Jedi Mind Tricks

I’ll give you props if you know who these man are but they are legends. Point blank. Violent By Design will forever rank as one of the great group albums in hip-hop history.  Vinny Paz, Jus Allah and producer/DJ Stoupe The Enemy of Mankind, gave hip-hop a shockwave they weren’t ready for, especially back in 1999.

Hip-hop as a business wasn’t ready to market a group, whose themes were rooted in topics like government control, military warfare, covert control tactics, religion and psychological warfare. To have all that in one bundle wasn’t something that big time A&R’s were ready for. 

Had they started this group in 2010, they would have walked in to a business landscape that was far more suitable to who they were as an act and as MC’s. 

Even with that JMT still enjoyed a lot of notoriety and they definitely succeeded in establishing their following, despite the odds. 

While Violent By Design may serve as the magnum opus of their body of work, their run really starts in 1997 with the Psycho-Social, Biological & Electro-Magnetic Manipulation Of Human Kind. 

Yes guy, that’s an album title. You gotta think now, I was in high school the first time I heard this and I was very into conspiracy theories and nonsense, so this album hit me right between the eyes. The idea that someone could use the medium of hip-hop in this way was crazy and the album would have been more than 10 years old when I first heard it.

No, the hip-hop historians among us will argue that Wu-Tang were a better and more influential group and I’d tend to agree, I can also bust back and say, “these dudes took Wu-Tang’s formula and gave it a whole different edge.”

 I’ll break it to you like this, Wu-Tang gave the world swordsmanship and the first projectile weapons like bow and arrows, spears and the likes. Jedi Mind Tricks gave the world gun powder, advanced modern explosives and semi-automatics. You see what I mean?

Recommended Songs: Untitled, Retaliation Remix

3. Jay-Z

No top rappers list is complete without my man. The only reason he ain’t higher is because, I rate a rapper more highly if they’re in the prime of their musical abilities. If this were an all-time list he’d be way way higher. 

Beginning with Reasonable Doubt is really the only place to start when it comes to Jay. The production, the skits, the way every sentence was so tightly wound together, the word selection and sentence construction. It’s remembered as an album of hits because of tracks like “Cant Knock The Hustle”, ”Feelin It” and “Brooklyn’s Finest” but Reasonable Doubt was really defined by “Dead Presidents”, “D’evils”, “Politics As Usual” and “Can I Live”. 

The first batch of songs gave the album some relatability, as far as depicting club vibes and nightlife glamour because that second batch of songs were all built on darker themes like betrayal, jealousy, greed, blind ambition and deception. That combination of themes as well as the production to match each one is why that album will always rank high among a certain listenership. 

With that being said, never make the mistake of thinking Jay or any man is perfect. There’s like a 3 album run where there’s moments of dope-ness but not a truly complete album. 

Still with that, songs like “Imaginary Player” and “Where I’m From” will rank among his best songs.

It’s only when you get to The Blueprint can you start to see Jay perfecting the art of crafting, whole, complete albums that bump from start to finish. The Blueprint was near perfection in this regard. “U Don’t Know”, “Heart Of The City” and “Momma Loves Me” will rank as his best efforts and yeah, I skipped a few.

The Black Album replicated the Blueprint’s listenability, while also dealing in topics that created an album that sounded very personal to Jay. 

All told, the best parts of his catalogue are so strong that there is no denying his place on my list.

Recommended Songs: Dead Presidents, I Love The Dough

2. Action Bronson

I cannot for the life of me fathom how this man doesn’t get the love but the real ones know. 

The mixtape download era (2010-2017 give or take), had many unlikely success stories. An overweight white guy, who grew up cooking in his parents deli/eatery, turned pro-chef then turned rapper, is beyond unlikely. Only the internet could allow this man to succeed and thank the hip-hop gods it did.

From 2012 to about 2018, Action was one of the only constants in my playlist. I still remember where I was the first time I heard “Brunch”. His catalogue starting with the Tommy Mas produced, Dr Lecter and boasting full collaborations albums along side Statik Selektah and the Alchemist, and of course the classic Blue Chips series. This man’s prime will be underrated. 

If you’re going to take one chapter of Bronson’s art and study it, it’s going to be Blue Chips 1 and 2. Both are thematically perfect without ever trying to be. Which is what allowed Party Supplies to make production choices that grabbed you from the jump. From the first time you hit play on the opening of Blue Chips 1, you’re hit with the sound of falling shards of glass and a violin sound that makes the opening song un-skippable. The songs themes are also a perfect introduction to the man himself. Debauchery, expensive taste, hedonism, revelry, unabashed pleasure-seeking, drug use and just enough self-depreciation that you felt you were along for the ride rather than just a fly on the wall, turning your nose in disgust. It was a perfect mixtape, at a time when mixtapes were at a crazy dumb high standard.

It’s not so much that a rapper made punchlines about food, that would be an over-simplification and really missing the trick. It’s that he made everything he said sound like the dopest thing ever and the most underrated trick about his music is that he made grown man rap without needing to be thuggin’. A rare feat. 

Bronson has since gone on to establish himself as a content creator/producer/food review guy but man, what he accomplished as a complete body of work is nothing short of astonishing.

Recommended Songs: Midget Cough, Bonzai

1. Headie One

So it’s late last year. I’m hanging with my boy Phil and Brown, we had just finished some content and Phil says “yo listen to this”. He proceeds to play Golden Boot and it hasn’t stopped bumping since. 

A UK rapper with a lyrical nous and wit that rivals even legends like Jay-Z, but rapping over trap and drill beats. What Headie One is doing is not the norm and I’m talking in terms of his lyrics, sentence construction, word selection, metaphors, he does it all and like all the greats, he makes it look easy. 

His collaboration with RV definitely helped mold him, with both the “Sticks and Stones” and “Drillers and Trappers” mixtapes giving you an idea of what Headie offers as a lyricist. He compliments RV’s brash, aggressive boasts with slightly less obvious but incredibly witty boasts of his own.

His discography though really starts to peak with 2018′s “The One”. That’s where Headie begins find a sweet spot between his lyrics, production and the themes of his songs. A mixtape like this can only exist via independent release because outside of the aforementioned “Golden Boot”, ain’t none of those songs getting any radio play especially in a country as “conservative” as England. Even in a genre saturated with gangsta/trap, “The One” stands out for what he accomplishes lyrically.

Headie would follow that by releasing “The One Two” in June of 2018 and he ascends even more in what he’s able to accomplish with the words.

 The track “Banter On Me” should be in an all-time list somewhere for being the wittiest track of all time. The song is literally just Headie finding new and innovative ways to boast, call out and bait his foes. Hip-hop/Rap has plenty of beef songs that weren’t really direct call outs to any known public figure but were still definitely taking shots at someone. 50 cent’s “Wanksta” and “Officer Down” are some examples of such songs I can think of. Those did not really have the kind of wit Headie displays here. The constant streams of alliterations, double meanings, puns, metaphors, inferences and innuendos is just astonishing. There’s a real mastery of language at play here. The song is a lesson in language, no textbooks. 

Headie has since released his debut album along with additional tracks for the delux version of the album. His debut studio release “Edna” does what studio releases are supposed to do. “Parle-Vouz Anglais” and “Aint It Different” will standout and are difinitely the most palatable songs as far as radio play. Those are the 2 songs I’d play for first time listeners. 

Recommended Songs: Hard To Believe, Dues, Zodiac

[queenmuzz]

Mors aurem vellens, 'Vivite,' ait, 'venio': Chapter Two

The Flame is Relit.

Read here, or on Ao3

In the past few months, you had traversed mountains that seemed to reach to the heavens, vomited over the sides of boats that bobbed helplessly through a storm, and yet this final ride, sitting on the back of a simple wooden cart as it travelled, was the worst by far.  The road, if it could be called that, was not kind to your behind as it bumped along, long grasses brushed along the sides, occasionally whipping you in the face.

Of course, you could have had it worse.  You could have been forced to walk along what was no more than a glorified goat path, but then this farmer, on his way home from the marketplace, offered you a ride.  It all seemed to be a fortuitous coincidence, an alarmingly suspicious one.  Just like the boat that just happened to be setting off from Fortuna, despite it being before sunrise, and just so happened to have a spot for one more single person.  And despite all the times you  bartered for passage, or purchased food and shelter, the coin purse never seemed to get lighter.  So you put aside your uncomfortable situation and sat back among the supplies as the final leg of your journey continued.  Already, among the overgrowth, you could see hints of red stone, remnants of graves, their inscriptions long worn away by the weather.  You were close, and even a large jolt couldn’t take your mind off what was to come.  The trepidation, the nervousness, the...excitement.  

“You alright back there, Miss?” The farmer yelled back, “Sorry, this cart ain’t built for passengers, just for supplies.  And only me and a couple other farmers take this road

“It’s quite alright, Master Elesion,” you cheerily replied, only wincing slightly as one wheel hit what felt like a boulder.  

The jovial man chuckled, “Now, now…. I ain’t some noble, just some humble farmer. Enrico will do just fine.”

“Well, thank you Enrico, I hadn’t expected the road to be so…” you attempted to find a diplomatic way of speaking about it “rustic.”

The man slapped his leg, and let out a hearty laugh, his dark brown hair escaping from under his hat,  “That’s one way of putting it, like I said, only me and a couple of the other farmers use this path, much quicker than the main road.  He adjusted the reins, clicking his tongue at the horses to pull harder as they attempted to get out of a small rut in the road.  “You won’t believe me, but back in my grandfather’s grandfather’s time, this was a gleaming road, filled to the brim with people comin’ and goin’,” his face fell, “Not much anymore… you’ll see why soon.”

The horses began to be a bit more antsy, and Enrico began muttering soothing encouragement.  “Hey girls, it’s okay...it’ll be okay.”  

The reason for their sudden skittishness was almost immediately, the long heavy grass abruptly gave away to...nothing.  In front of the horses was a cracked stone road, and on both sides, was bare, lifeless looking dirt, with nary a stalk of grass, nor a trunk.  The closest thing to living vegetation was the dead leaves that seemed to blow in from the surrounding area.  And the silence!  You hadn’t noticed it at the time, but behind,  you heard the creaking and buzzing of insects, the chirping of birds, in front of you....nothing.  It seemed that there was not a single living thing on this gently sloping hill, not even moss growing between the stones.

“There it is…” the farmer said, with just a touch of fear, “Vergil’s temple.  Nobody’s had the stones to spend any time, aside from the youngin���s daring each other.  Land’s been lifeless for generations…  People say Vergil cursed the land to wither around it, after one of his priests betrayed him.”  He steadied his horses once again, as they gave the impression that they wanted to bolt.  “Hell, my girls won’t probably get any closer to this place.” He glanced at you, “You sure about this Miss?  I wouldn’t blame you if you back out.  We have an extra bed in the farmhouse.” You slung your pack over your shoulder, and hefted your staff to get out. “I’ll be fine, but I appreciate the concern.”  You smiled a reassuring grin, and with a wave, you watched him head off, the way he kept glancing back at you indicated that he was less eager than his horses to leave you here.

The temple was magnificent...or would have been, several hundred years ago.  Pillars of marble held up a frieze showing engravings of weather worn figures.  You could make out an identical set of men, standing side by side, one of which had to be Dante, the other Vergil.  You saw a depiction of flames, and both of them men striking down a three eyed cyclops, with their signature blades.  Rebellion, a weapon that cleaved its way to victory, and Yamato, a blade so sharp it was said that Lord Vergil used it to cut the soul from the body at death.  Another relief caught your eye, of a young man, similar to the twins, but dressed in the raiments of a traditional poet.  Which was odd, because you were certain by the dress and the pose, that it was supposed to depict V, god of lyric poetry, but it looked nothing like him, instead of the lanky youth with the shoulder long hair, he had swept back hair, was older, and bulkier.  The inscription that should have shown his name had been frustratingly worn away...or chiseled out.

Your sandals echoed ominously as you went inside the building.  It was decrepit, with dead leaves and branches forming a layer of decay, blown into the corners.  You tentatively nudged a pile of leaves, expecting to hear the scurrying of insects and rodents fleeing at the disturbance, but there was nothing.  On a closer examination, you realized that there were absolutely no signs of living things, no tracks, no mouse droppings...not even a cobweb.

Well, there was one living thing, at least you thought there was.  Coiled around the inner  pillars were thorny ivy vines. Thick as your waist, they sprawled everywhere, almost blocking your path to the inner sanctum.  No...not ivy, as they had no leaves, and didn’t seem to go towards the sun.  They looked more like they were growing towards the ground, like...roots.  You remembered your father worried about some weeds found in the corner of one of your family’s wheat fields when you were a girl.  The flowers were pretty, but he explained that the plant was dangerous, poisoning the soil so that none, save it, could grow, and so the only way to stop it was to burn the plant and the surrounding foliage.  Perhaps that is what this strange plant did to the area.

You followed the roots, and realized they converged, not at the base of a tree, but at the sacred statue at the centre.  It towered over you, three times your height, a ferocious monstrous figure, draconic in nature, with wings spread out, nearly touching the walls, a tail that looked disturbingly similar to the roots coiled around the base.  So, this was a statue of Vergil, or specifically, his divine form.  If looking at the ‘human’ form of a god was a death sentence, looking at their divine form in the flesh would drive one mad, so it was said.  You felt small and insignificant against this massive stone statue, and for the first time, you wished that perhaps you had taken Enrico’s offer.

But no matter, you had a divine purpose, and Nico strike you down with Her hammer if you didn’t complete it.  So, after sweeping the debris away from the stone altar, you placed the firewood you carried.  (How you were going to get more to feed the sacred hearth.... Well, you’d find the way.) You poured a flask of consecrated oil, the type usually used to bless newly built buildings, over it, soaking the wood, and with a flint, you created a spark.

For what probably was the first time in ages, a warm glow painted the walls with flickering orange. Unsure of what to do now, you did the sensible thing to do in a temple and knelt to pray.  In your travels, you had tried to find information about the ancient rites for this fearsome god, travelled to repositories of scrolls, but there was nothing.  You had no idea how to serve as a priestess, and what would happen if you failed.  Perhaps he was a finick-

A sharp chill crept up your spine and you swore that the flame in front of you flickered, as if blown by an invisible wind…. 

You were not alone.

********

Slowly, and with a touch of confusion, Vergil awoke.  He usually slumbered, only awakening on the approach of intruders, or to make sure the Qliphoth was growing as planned.  Regarding the latter, it was healthy, and still growing, with the hint of a bud beginning to show.  Soon, it would flower, and then shortly after that, assuming there were no complications, it would bear fruit.  Only a couple more centuries…

His brother had called him ‘crazy’ when he had told him his plan, to plant the Qliphoth within his own soul, but Vergil ignored his protestations.   Dante had tens of thousands of worshippers, which made his power immeasurable. But for Vergil, no one worshipped the God of Death, no one prayed to him, aside from people on their deathbeds, making a last minute plea to him.  There was no way he could be powerful like his father, mother, or even his annoying little brother, especially after his betrayal by one he had trusted.  So he had gone to the Goddess of Space and Time, to find a way to obtain more power, and for once, she gave a rather straightforward answer.

Plant a Qliphoth Seed within your Heart, and only then, when it bears Fruit,  will you understand True Power.

So then, despite nearly every God in the Pantheon disagreeing with him, he chose the drastic act to be the soil in which the Qliphoth would sprout from.  They didn’t understand, they COULDN’T understand.  From Credo, God of Courage, to Trish, Goddess of the Storms, they all had something that brought people to Them, to serve Them.  To be a God was power, and without it, he was no better than a mere mortal.  Granted, even in his weakened state, he was much more powerful than any human could ever hope to be, but without worshipers, without people praying to him...he was nothing.

And so, for what seemed like countless years to the mortal eye, but was merely a long rest for him, he had slumbered as it grew, and fed off the surrounding countryside.  It consumed the vegetation, the wildlife, and occasionally interlopers, gorging on their precious power-infused blood.  Even then, the few people that came to visit nowadays were the local children, daring each other to go into what they thought was the ‘cursed’ temple.  For the most part, he had forbad the Qliphoth from feeding on them, not out of any moral sense.  A child’s blood was far too weak to be worth the risk of the locals burning down the temple in retaliation.  Besides, the terror and awe the young ones gave out as they approached as close as they dared to his decrepit shrine fed the Qliphoth quite well.  Not as well as blood, mind you, but it was the next best thing.

So, when he awoke to the sense of an intruder, he was confused.  There was fear, that could not be denied, but it was tempered with something else...determination?  That, and the warmth of his sacred hearth, lit for the first time in centuries, piqued his curiosity.

He didn’t manifest himself in a physical form, not because he was weak (of course not, that would be absurd) but because he wanted to observe his visitor undetected, and so he stalked the hall of his temple, the setting sun casting dark shadows over the debris on the floor, and entered the inner sanctum.

He had not been mistaken.  His sacred fire had indeed been relit.  And before it, knelt down in prayer, was a small figure, mouthing words silently.  He was perplexed at first, this woman, was she a pilgrim?  Was she lost and foolishly assumed this temple was a sanctuary?  

But her robes, a scarlet red, with gold tassels told him the truth.  This was a priestess.  And as a Priest could only claim one God as their ‘patron’, that meant she had chosen...to be his priestess.

Vergil was taken aback.  Ever since the Qliphoth had first sprouted, fertilized by the blood of his betrayer, there had been no worshippers, the few remaining priests fleeing in terror as the roots spread everywhere.  And just like that, the temple was abandoned, left to rot, but out of fear, never destroyed.  Slowly but surely, the roots began absorbing all life around it, leaving the hill his house of worship stood on a wasteland.

He told himself that it didn’t matter, that he could afford to wait, after all, it was just a matter of time before the fruit would ripen, and then he’d have no need for priests, pilgrims, or mortals at all.  He. Would. Need. No one.

So why was he so interested in this mortal?  Aside from seeing from what possessed her to come to this forsaken place.

She jerked up, and Vergil silently cursed.  She hadn’t been pretending to pray, she was a true believer, hence being able to sense him, even if he was invisible to her.  He couldn’t hide his presence from her.

“Who’s there?” She asked, wisps of fear flowing off of her, which the roots lapped up.  “Show yourself!”

He smiled, as he drew closer to her, to the point he was right behind her. He couldn’t help but play with this new toy he had been given.  

“Such hubris, for a mortal, demanding something from a God” he whispered in her ear, and she froze, and even in the orange glow, he could see the blood drain from her face.  She was smarter than he initially thought, as she instantly supplicated herself to the floor.

“Lord Vergil! I-I… a thousand mercies!  I thought…”  The terror was delicious, he could feel it in the roots, but he couldn’t let it overwhelm himself….or cause the woman to flee.

“Now now,” he said with faux politeness, “I will let it slide, for now, on the condition you answer my questions quickly, and honestly. Now stand.” his voice barked out the order, and he noticed the shakiness and effort it took her, not totally due to fear.

“Yes, my Lord”

“First question:  Why are you here?”  The answer was obvious, but he wanted to hear it from her lips.  

“To..to become your priestess.” the answer came quickly, even as she kept her eyes fixed on the tiles at her feet.

“A bit odd, as I have had none for many of your lifetimes,”  in truth, he was puzzled.  He might be out of touch with the outer world, he knew that his temple had been forgotten aside from local farmers who kept a safe distance.  And she, going by her scent, which reminded him of waves and distant soil, she was not from around here.  “What brought you here?”

“I was sent.” 

Her response was more firm, which was good.  While fear was good food for the plant, it would never come close to proper worship… or blood.  He couldn’t just have a servant forced to worship him out of terror.  But he still hadn’t had his question answered.

“By who?”

There was a slight hesitation, not because she was afraid he would punish her, but that he might punish the one who sent her.   She took a deep breath. 

“Lady Kyrie sent me.”

Vergil clicked his tongue in annoyance, causing the woman to flinch, most likely thinking he was about to strike her down.  

“Of course,” he muttered, mostly to himself, “she would put her nose where it doesn’t belong, trying to ‘fix’ things that do not need ‘fixing’.”  He sighed, and the priestess stood stock still, like a deer.   As annoyed as he was and the young idealistic goddess’s idea of ‘helping’, he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak.  A priestess, with a lifetime of devotion and worship, could hasten the blooming of the Qliphoth by several decades...a lifetime...he drew closer to her, and she shuddered, no doubt feeling him right next to her as he analyzed something that had bothered him...there was something about her… a hint of decay… and it took the God of Death no time at all to figure out what it was.  

“You are not long for this world,” he stated flatly.

“No my Lord, I was given two years by the Oracle.”

He pinched his brow.  What was that daft girl thinking, sending him a priestess that would be dead in the blink of an eye.  Was this some sort of  ironic joke?  Kyrie wasn’t that sort of person, that would be more like his brother’s doing to pull a prank like this.  She had to have known about the woman’s fate.  He stared at her, trying to figure out what to do.  It would be kinder to just have the Qliphoth impale her, and absorb her blood, it had been far too long since it had tasted the powerful crimson liquid.

But…

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that brief as it was, a few years of service and devotion was better than nothing.  And besides, at the end, he could just absorb her blood when she passed.  He might even be able to do her a service, ending her final days before the suffering got unbearable. Making his decision, he pulled back and he could see her relax slightly.  

“Well,” he said with a touch of annoyance, “don’t just stand there, continue with your duties.” She startled, before hesitating.  “Pardon my inquiry my Lord, but...are there any duties that I should be doing?  I’ve never done this before and… I wasn’t able to find any information about rites to you.”

“So quickly are the old ways forgotten,” he sighed, disappointed.  Well, he shouldn’t fault the woman, it had been a long time since his priests had fled, and even if they had written down the sacred rites, paper was even more fragile than human memories.  And, he thought to himself, the woman had at least attempted to find out the long lost knowledge, he’d give her some credit for that.

“Well, it seems your training will start tomorrow, but for now, finish your prayers and do whatever you need to set up your living arrangements.  Night is falling soon, and I would be an ungracious host,” he couldn’t help but let a little sarcasm slip out with those last two words, “if I let my priestess collapse from exhaustion.”

She almost lifted her head, before remembering her place and staring down again.  “Thank you, my Lord.”  She remained in her subservient position for almost a minute after he had withdrawn, no doubt worried that she might accidentally look up and see him, before finally finishing her evening prayers, and setting another log for the hearth to burn throughout the night.

******

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, and Vergil supposed she had traveled a long way to get here.  Looking at her meagre possessions, it was rather easy to tell her travels.  Judging by the well worn pilgrims cloak that had once been brilliant white, but now smudged with dirt, she’d gone to Fortuna to plead with his mother for a cure.  But not even his mother could overrule the Weaver of Fate.  Somehow Kyrie had gotten her soft hands on the woman, and steered her to hm.  For what purpose, he had no idea.  For an instant he thought perhaps she had tricked her into thinking that if she served the God of Death, she’d be spared, but quickly threw it out.  As sweetly annoying as she could be, she would never deceive a mortal like that.  He looked at her other items, a traveling staff that showed heavy usage, and would most likely see much more use in the future.  A scroll with what seemed to be instructions on basic temple rites, and a disturbingly small amount of food, mostly stale bread and dried fruit.  It wouldn’t do at all for his priestess to collapse from malnutrition, so he stalked outside of his temple...the first time in at least a hundred years.  

The area of wasteland had gotten bigger, he noticed, as the Qliphoth did its slow but steady work, and with each step away from his temple, he could feel his power diminishing.  A shame, that he was more a prisoner,  than a God.  But again, he reminded himself, once the fruit ripened, he would never be shackled again, not by any God, nor mortal, nor even Himself.

Thankfully, just before his leash tightened, he reached the stark dividing line between life and death.  He closed his eyes for a minute, and reached with his diminished senses to feel what he sought.  There, a dozen paces away, two hares munched on shoots of grass, oblivious to the danger that stalked nearby.  

Silently, he pulled out Yamato, and with a silent slice, both lay still, eyes wide open.  He picked them up and paused.  Human blood was precious, but in a pinch, animal blood would suffice.  He could give one to the Priestess, and offer one to the roots...but something inside of him, some annoying little voice said that wouldn’t be worth it.  The longer he kept the Priestess alive and healthy enough to do her duties, the more power the Qliphoth could accumulate.  And wasn’t that, he thought to himself as he walked back towards the orange glow emanating from the ancient building, a sight he’d almost forgotten, the most important thing?

[mercdoesfanfic]

The Last of the American Girls (Chapter 1)

Hello! I’m not sure if I’m gonna keep posting fics on tumblr, but I figured I’d give it a try. I guess let me know if you like this fic and I’ll be more likely to keep going. Anyways, it’s going to be kind of a songfic using The Last of the American Girls by Green Day. The first chapter is set up and beyond that, they’ll be memories. WARNINGS: angst, vague references to doing the nasty.

xxx

“Well, she’s the last of the American Girls.”

xxx

In the grand scheme of things, there wasn’t much that Daryl Dixon needed to survive. While some of his companions in the apocalypse yearned for a warm bath or a movie to watch, Daryl was used to living rough and tumble. He knew how to hunt, how to turn animal meat into an edible meal, and how to fend for himself. After all, the world had only just decided it didn’t want the rest of humanity there, but it had despised him since the day he was born.

However, he had to admit he was thrilled when he found out that the Greene’s farmhouse had electricity. It gave him one last opportunity to use the last item he had held onto from the past, to experience the only thing that had mattered to him before the world went to hell.

It took some uncomfortable explaining to one of Hershel’s daughters- the older one who had taken a shine to Glenn- to get him in the door and into the guest room. She left him for a moment with a curious expression, quickly returning with the only item he had asked for.

Daryl took the iPod charger and thanked her quietly, refusing to make eye contact. It didn’t take long for the woman to take her leave.

The younger Dixon could almost hear his older brother’s mocking, despite their estrangement. It didn’t matter where in the world Merle Dixon was, he always got himself the last word when it came to his brother’s choices. And, as Daryl could imagine, he would be getting mocked endlessly for what he was about to do. However, with little else to do as the small black device charged, all he could do was listen to the disappointed guffaws of his elder brother.

“Christ Almighty, Darylina. Not even the end of the fucking world could force you to grow a pair. Sittin’ around in some saintly man’s house, waiting on a useless brick of metal. And for what? All over some bitch that’s dead and gone.”

Daryl almost winced at the imagined scrutiny, his brother’s words cutting worse than when he had thought the things himself. This was remarkably stupid, even by his standards. There was nothing left for him in this. Everything on the little device covered in various, cartoon stickers charging in front of him was based purely on memory, on emotion. Even on a good day, Daryl found the routine, the desire to look through the iPod ridiculous. And he couldn’t help but assume that there weren’t going to be many good days left.

The world seemed to halt when the screen came to life, the usual playlist displayed in dark mode taking over for the first time in months.

His mind, as it always did, clouded at the sight of his name at the top of the track list. Dixon. He could almost hear her voice, the lilt that snuck into her tone every time she greeted him from behind the bar. He thought he had moved past this, that the end of the world had washed away what had come before. That he would be done with the emotional strain that the world had placed on his shoulders from a young age. The good, the bad, and the ugly, all rinsed away for the simple chaos that the walkers left in their wake. But now, sat in front of this stupid fucking box like a teenager looking at a love note, he knew that would never be the case.

xxx

She had been on her tiptoes, cursing as she stretched over the counter to wipe down a spilled drink when he had entered the dimly lit dive bar. It was a chilly evening in Atlanta, but the woman still wore a simple black tank top and grey jean shorts that hardly came halfway down her thighs. Her long, dark brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, clearly for practicality as opposed to preference, keeping it off of her face and neck as she worked. This, however, only served to draw attention to the work of art that adorned her body, a tattoo consisting of barbed wire wrapped around her neck that slithered down over the rest of her body, ending somewhere below her ankles. She didn’t seem too imposing, but her presence seemed to demand respect from those around her. In shitholes like this, men could hardly keep their drunken mouths shut around women, saying filthy things and copping feels. But the place was in order. People kept themselves in check and a single glare from her created a silence far more imposing than anything Daryl had ever seen.

He had come in looking for an alibi, an excuse to keep himself out of Merle’s illicit activities for the evening and a dose of plausible deniability should the Atlanta PD come knocking. Instead, he had found something else. Usually, he couldn’t give two fucks about what someone thought about him. But her? He wanted her to notice him…

xxx

Doors opening and closing on the floor below him brought him back to the present, the memory’s clarity fading almost as quickly as it came. The first time he had been able to see her in his mind’s eye in a long time. It had been a year since he had seen her, since he had left the city with his brother like the idiot he was. She had offered him a place in the world, a life of his own, and he had turned it down for Merle fucking Dixon. There wasn’t a day that he wondered if the choice was worth it… But since Merle had fled that rooftop in Atlanta, he knew that he had thrown in with the wrong person.

Everyone he cared for always left him. But not her. She had asked him to stay.

And he had left her in return.

Fucking. Moron.

A parting gift, in the form of her treasured iPod containing a playlist for him, was all he had left of her. He had no doubt in his mind that she was long gone, either fleeing from the dead or part of the dead herself. After all, happy endings and good fortune were never in the cards for any of the Dixons, least of all Daryl.

With unsteady hands, Daryl plugged in the pair of earbuds she had sent along, pushing one into his ear in order to keep himself sharp enough to respond to any possible threats. It was second nature, it always had been. As he stared at the unmoving screen before him, he asked himself whether he deserved this. The memory of Gloria alone overwhelmed him with a sense of bliss, one he wasn’t sure he deserved. It all came back in short bursts. The good, the bad, and the ugly of one of the best people he’d met in his entire life.

xxx

“Oh, eat shit, Dixon!” she cried, laughing through her words as she curled up in the passenger seat of his pick-up truck. “I was NOT that drunk!”

“Ya tripped over the curb, then curled up on the sidewalk screamin’ ‘bout how ya were sure to die any minute. I had t’ carry ya home and put a frozen bag of blueberries on ya elbow.”

“I was just… very concerned about gettin’ a bruise.” she defended adamantly.

“You didn’t even hit that elbow, Glory.”

“Like I said, eat shit!” Her smile was practically contagious.

xxx

“You’re such a fuckin’ prick, Dixon!” she screamed, stalking up the stairs of the empty bar towards her apartment above. “I can’t fuckin’ believe it!”

“Glory, I’ve got no goddamn clue what you are talkin’ about!”

“So I’m just not good enough for a little fuckin’ honesty, that it?!” she demanded, stopping short at the door and turning to face him. Daryl could see the tears hidden behind the rage, but knew that they wouldn’t fall, not in front of him. “Am I jus’ not worth the fuckin’ time?! If you don’ wanna take this anywhere, that’s fuckin’ fine! But don’ lead me on like I’m some idiot.”

“I-... I don’t wanna…-”

“But you are, asshole! I have been jerked around enough damn times to know what it looks like. And to think I thought you gave a fuck.”

“I do! I jus’ ain’t ever done this before!!”

She quieted down almost immediately, her demeanor eerily timid in comparison to her typical fire.

“You-You’ve never… never what? Like… any of it…?”

“No! I haven’t!” Daryl was still pissed, but he couldn’t quite tell if it was at her or himself.

“Oh fuck…. I am… Jesus, I’m so sorry, I’m such a bitch.” she murmured, burying her face in her hands. “Christ, I’m sorry.” she turned around to unlock her door, fumbling with the keys as Daryl fumed. As she opened the door with a creak of rusty hinges, she turned to face him. “You deserve a better first, Dixon. Don’t waste it on me, okay?” the words were filled with kindness, with a sort of compassion he rarely saw from her.

As the door shut, he understood one fact more clearly than he had ever understood about the retreating woman. He was stupidly in love with her.

xxx

Her scars were so different from his. While his were big, ragged gashes, hers were small, smooth indentations in otherwise perfect skin. But, like his, they were everywhere.

He discovered each and every one, his calloused hands tracing ever so lightly over her skin. She leaned up to do the same with her lips, letting them ghost over his neck as he held back a satisfied groan at her efforts. It didn’t take long for him to reach his destination, his nimble fingers pulling melodies from her lips that he was so sure proved the existence of a god. Only the divine could create something so heavenly.

Once she had her fill, he took what he so desperately needed, murmuring praises the entire way. Her nails dug into his arms as she clung to him, begging for more, to be closer to him. To say that having this unwavering force of a woman beneath him crying out in ecstasy was anything short of magical would have been a goddamn crime.

For the first time in his entire life, Daryl Dixon found peace in baring himself to another person, falling soundly asleep with Gloria tangled in a gentle embrace.

xxx

Daryl Dixon refocused his gaze on the screen in front of him and pressed play.