#i have to go basically the entire length of line two we live at opposite ends of the city

[muirneach]

aunt said family gathering 11:30-2:30 its 1:50 now and her house takes me an hour to get to. lets go

[monday-headache]

Hey Simon! Thank you for the amazing ask <3 Right back at you:

I love that you're writing/arting about characters that have never met in canon (Gaige and Sasha, Fiona and Scarlett). What drew you to writing these characters together? And are there any more that you'd love to explore one day? :D

Hey Sarah, glad it made you smile. I want to have more interaction with the fandom so I’ll try to make this a regular, so please be free to send me questions whenever. I’d love to read your thoughts ;)

And Omg, that’s a fantastic question as well but, be aware, this is gonna be an essay as well.

Mhh where to start, where to start.

So first things first, My headcanon of why I think Gaige and Sasha would be best friends started a pretty long while ago, way before I even got gently pushed towards the Idea of really starting to write about it in the first place. Because you must know, even though Strays is my first longshot, it is also my very first fanfc I’ve ever written in like ever. So no matter how shitty, great or whatever it will turn out to be or how well others will be, Strays has and will always have a special place in my heart. And I’m not gonna rush things either, even when the fandom will die out, my Ideas for it will flow ;)

But yeah how it started. To put it simply Gaige was my first character In Borderlands ever that I played myself. I knew about the Lore of 1 and I’ve played 1 with a friend by the time it came out, but I played 1 myself AFTER I finished 2 So that may be a big reason, why I have such an open spot for Gaige. But also because she is fun, quirky extreme, punky, loves robots and tech... to put it simple a lot of traits I really love about a character. Her backstory with the science fair was so fresh and funny, and it may be one of my favorite spoken dialogue interactions heard over echo cassette’s

Then after Bl2 my love for Borderlands continued, played 1, played TPS and then... There was Tales, and by god do I loved Tales, and I hella still do. You probably know the feeling yourself. And with the love for the game, came a huge love for it’s cast. Like seriously I think besides Tector there isn’t really a character where I was going like, “ugh this one is trash” on the contrary. And besides my obvious love for the main 2 characters, there was a big love for the Deutagonist’s of this masterpiece. Namely Sasha and Loaderbot.

Loaderbot may have officially taken the spot for me as most favorite Robot in video game history ever (and Gortys for the most precious character ever). Like his whole segment of kidnapping them, forcing them to tell the truth, only to show how much he had grieved, how betrayed he felt and that he did all of tha  for his loved ones. Man say what you will about him, but damn he was written perfectly. I was blown away.

Secondly is of course, as you might have guessed it Sasha. I could go lengths for her too, how much I love and admire her character, how real she felt as a sister, a pandoran and last but not least as a human. Sasha felt to me like the most well rounded out character of the 6 (pls don’t hate me for it guys) From the punk rebellious attitude, to learning that she had an anti Hyperion pirate radio, that she used to broadcast bad things that happens in her neighbourhood, to her adapting her morals and learn that even in the most corrupt organisations there are still normal people struggling with their own life, and then progressing from it. And lastly after everything was at loss, the money the plan, she was willing to sacrifice her whole life for a dear friend/s, even on her dying breath putting both Rhys and her Sister at ease and in her last moments. Amazing.

Oooh boy and that was just the prelude to it all XD

After that I noticed a lot of similarities, between characters. Sasha and Loaderbot for instance are both pragmatic, put the lives of their loved ones over their own, love tech, are socially open people while holding back on information and emotion. Not to mention the scenes in 2 and 3 and also 4 and 5 where it is slightly hinted how well Sasha and Loaderbot work together, without sharing much words. So naturally the Idea was born that Sash and LB became quite close.

And the same goes for Sasha and Gaige. I was actually surprised that nobody (not entirely true, I saw one fanart of it) seemed to made that connection before as it was so obvious to me. So basically Sasha is a softer version of Gaige, in many terms. They both have a big heart for tech and especially guns. They both hosted a small radio broadcast that blew up in their region over night. Both are anarchist’s who spread the word for awareness, how fucked up the company war actually is. Both are not really good at their aim. Both call robots as their closes’t friends. Both share a deep hatred for Handsome Jack and his doings. Both fought a giant ass Vault Monster and nearly died in the process of doing so. Both got screwed up big time and now have a huge bounty on their head... So you see the list goes on, and honestly the more I write them, the more similarities I notice, both hc wise and canon wise. So there more I thought about it, and noticed similarites the more I fell in love with the Idea of them becoming close. And from there the Idea was born, that they probably met on a job ( the most likely scenario in the Borderlands universe). It had to be before BL3 of course, and to be after Tales naturally so that only put one timeline in the focus, Commander Lillith.

To be honest, I didn’t expect everything turning out so big. Like seriously I orifinally planed like 8k words or so. Now I’m dangling on the Idea of having 13 chapters and a big ass finally, a neat wrap up of everything and even a possible epilogue XD Yeah, that wasn’t what I expected either but damn do I love doing it.

Like seriously my headcanons only just gotten bigger and bigger. From a whole nebula system in the galaxy, to regions I created in my own mind for it, to even complex backstorys. Like why Sasha wears a headband, why she loves guns so much, what happened to her and Fi’s parents, why she was raised by her aunt, what does Felix have to do with it, Why Gaige has this kicks of both sudden depression and manical behavior. Why she’s so close to her dad, but her mom wasn’t even mentioned once (but teased), why she wanted to become a wedding planer, and why she is so obsessed with robots and margarita mix. I think one day, this thing will turn into a tabletop game or something XD

So estimated 20k words on my answer later and now we are going for my own created ship Scarleona. Don’t worry, as much as I like to gosh about that too, it wont take as long I prommy.

Scarleona was created in a sudden urge while thinking about what happpend to Fiona while Strays happened. And similar to Gaige and Sasha, Scarleona was born from a dynamic. Especially of those from two Ladybosses with Silvertongue and speech 100XD Fiona and Scarlett may have become my favorite Fiona ship (no offense everybody) because of how well they play off each other. Fiona is a con artist, her whole life she was used to swindle, to play it cool and by ear, go with the flow, and expect the unexpected. So here core idea is that she is manupulating people by LYING to them.

Scarlett on the other hand is similar while also the complete opposite to it. She is backstabby, plays with her charm and most importantly she is dead honest while tricking people. In fact even so honest that people don’t even realised that they got tricked even though she told it several times before. And this dynamic is so fascinating to me. You see, Fiona has almost an answer an action for everything prepared, but the idea that her winning honesty, is mind puzzling to Fiona is so perfect. @michellespenscratchz wrote me a drabble several months ago and I think that line describes it just perfect

“So, let me see if I got this straight,” Fiona tilted her head inquisitively at Captain Scarlett. “You needed these Vault Hunters’ help to find this treasure for you. So you…just asked them?”

“That’s right.” Scarlett nodded, inspecting her hook nonchalantly.

“Even though they knew you wanted it for yourself?” Fiona asked.

“Indeed,” Scarlett replied.

“And they…” Fiona blinked, “…knew you planned on fighting them for it once they had it.”

“Of course they did,” Scarlett shrugged. “I told them as much.”

“You told them?”

“Yes.”

“And they helped you anyway?”

“Precisely.” Scarlett turned her hat against the blistering wind. “I fear I don’t quite grasp what about this is so difficult to grasp, Fiona dear.”

“Huh.” Fiona cast her gaze out across the expanse of Pandoran horizon. “I guess I just gotta–I dunno–rethink my whole life right now.”

So yeah, that was basically it. I kinda diagressed and didn’t want to hurt your eyes more looking at the long ass text, but please if you have some more questions to it, pls hit me. I love to gosh about it <3

And thank you so much <3 This was hella fun

[vesperstalksclones]

Whats this? A naughty story about REX??? 😱

(18 +) - be warned!!

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sucking off a Vod. Im not blushing, you're blushing

Uses: cures boredom, loneliness, anxiety, and scratches that "itch"; helpful for all clone lovers, but especially those who are preoccupied (like me) with the idea of going down on one of our gorgeous troopers. 

Ingredients: a bit of deep throating, ample saliva, hair pulling, teasing, and lots of sweet sweet clone rod

A lil sumthin sumthin inspired by the glorious bunch of peeps that admin for and show up at clonesandmoans.

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"On. Your. Knees." Fives postured, hands on his hips, trying his best to look as dignified as possible. 

Jesse burst out laughing and his friend's poor attempt to mimic their commanding officer. Amidst chuckles and heckling from the other clones, you sat chewing on your lip, trying to make sense of Fives' act.

I knew Rex as a stern commander, albeit he was thoughtful of his men. I'd never heard him speak with such a dominant and aggressive tone or issue orders in such a basic way. What was Fives on about?

"I don't get it…" 

Fives and Jesse glance up at the sound of your voice. They had become two of your best pals since coming on as a med tech three months ago. Torrent company was known for getting the job done, even if it meant getting blown up in the process. The result was a patient load in the med bay that often flooded in to the halls. The modest staff couldn't keep up, even with the support of the clone field medics. The call had come in for more hands, and yours had been chosen.

"Mph" Jesse grunted. "Umbara. A shit traitor named Krell. He did us pretty dirty; lost us a lot of brothers."

Fives chimed in "Rex took it pretty hard. He felt responsible as our CO. It was his decision to execute Krell. He said that; commanded him 'On Your Knees'. Now when he's pissed that's our tag line…." Fives ducked his head, glaring up from under his brows and growled out the words low in his throat. 

I swallowed hard. I couldn't deny that I had a thing for these men. They were fit and firm and strong. I had handled so many of these gorgeous tanned bodies since I'd reported to Torrent and It was a guilty hidden pleasure of mine. I was glad to save their lives and stitch up their wounds and soothe their fevers. The fact that they were built like every maiden's fantasy under that armour was a surprising and welcome bonus. 

And then there was the Captain. He always presented with an air of quiet dignity. Even when he professed worry for his injured troops, he always always remaind poised. Many of the other soldiers jumped at the chance to flirt with a young available female. Especially one who's job included removing their clothing and occasionally (if they were lucky) touching their twig and berries if necessary. Some, like Fives, were shameless in their chatter. He'd offered to service me several times. Honestly it didn't bother me, he was so sweet and silly and friendly about it, like an overly large puppy. That's how we became friends, as messed up as it seemed. He had offered to paint my molars. I politely declined and checked around his balls for herniations. Instant besties. 

 Rex had never had to present to me before. Apparently he preferred to report to his medic, Kix, for treatment. No, I had only ever traded injury reports and small talk with the commander. He was always perfectly poised. Focused. Buttoned up.

I wanted to unbutton him.

In the most depraved ways I could imagine. I wanted that decent, respectful man to use me like his play thing and leave my sticky, sweaty, and shaking.

Again… a dry swallow at the thought.

Fives cocked an eyebrow at me. 

"Hey uhh… Jess! Look at this shit!"

Jesse swung around, joining us. "Whats that Vod?"

Fives lowered himself to my eye level. He repeated the low growl, and had the heat rising in my cheeks. 

"You fekking like that don't you ad'ika??" Jesse snickered and ruffled my hair. 

Fives stroked his goatee. "Got a thing for the good Captain, do you Nurse? Well…"

"Kriffing… ugh! Fives stop!" I covered my face not sure if I was embarrassed or relieved that my friends had found me out.

I pushed him out of the way and scrambled up from the lounge chair. "I have to run! My rotation starts in 15! Jesse, Fives, … keep your mouths shut… or I'll order cavity searches on both of you!"

"Don't threaten us with a good time!"

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A few days had passed and I had all but forgotten the exchange with the boys. I was preforming an inventory in a satellite med station, counting off bandages, checking the use by dates on IV bags… important profoundly boring work. Footsteps echoed in the adjoining exam room, big and heavy. Looking to the door… there stood the captain… clad in his boots and blacks, arms crossed as he studied me.

I straightened and tidied myself. 

"Yes Captain?"

"It's come to my attention…" he thought for a moment, " some of my men think I make you uncomfortable."

Uh….

"I beg pardon? Not at all sir!" I crossed the room, intent on showing him that his presence was not unwelcome. "Whatever gave them that notion?"

"Apparently a discussion of my behavior in the field caused you visible discomfort…"

Fucking Fives. And. Jesse. They would die for this.

"No sir…" I thought back to Fives impression and couldn't help but flush from the thought. The real thing was standing an arms length away from me. And we were very alone. 

I stared into his amber eyes, the square stern set of his face. I imagined his full lips forming the words. Commanding me.To my knees.

The heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. I couldn't look any longer without embarrassing myself.

"It seems to me ad'ika, that you are not being very truthful." His lilting accent filled my ears and I wished for… rougher.. words to be graced by it.

His thumb and fingers gripped my jaw, his palm pressed against my neck. He lifted my face and leaned close enough for me to feel his breath on my skin.

"It seems.." he continued, his rich velvety baritone came softly "...that you might appreciate it if I were to speak to you in a way that many would consider.…indecent."

I took a shuddering breath, my mouth falling open. With just that simple incantation my body caved entirely to his spell, and I felt tingling heat spread through my belly. 

What was happening??? Was this reality? Was Mr Duties and regulations coming on to me???

"What if I would? What would you do about that?" I whispered, testing the terrain.

"I'd certainly oblige." He replied, running his thumb across my bottom lip, "Anything to make you feel more at home."

"Just doing my job sir."

I was physically shaking with the need to grab hold of him."

"Anything to keep you in peak condition".

Oh God, that was terrible. I didn't dare speak anymore, afraid at how quickly my capacity for structured thought was deteriorating. 

I lept at him, pressing hungry lips to his, getting a tight grip at his shoulders.

Rex palmed my ass and lifted me easily, sitting my down roughly on the exam table all the while fighting for my tongue. He positively devoured me, pulling my chest tight against his, bending me backwards to accommodate his height.

"How do you like to be touched?" He gasped between kisses thrusting a hand under my shirt and spreading it across my navel.

"I'll like anything you do to me. Just use me Rex." It came out like an order more than a request. 

His lips quirked into a sly grin. He pulled my shirt over my head and quickly hooked my sports bra with his thumbs, dragging it up my arms. I expected it to be flung away as well, but at my elbows he made a deft twist of his wrist, and the garment tightened like a snare. One big hand pulled my arms backward, arching my torso so that my breasts stood up like lonely mountains before my chin. His opposite hand pressed to my rib cage, and crept around smoothly examining my flesh. He traced the bottoms of my breasts, then slowly closed over one as he watched my face. My jaw had dropped lower with each inch over movement and when his calloused thumb and forefinger teased my nipple to a harder pebble I loosed a groan. It was wanton and desperate and I knew he liked it because his smile showed his perfect teeth, right before they descended to the other breast. 

I couldn't help it but my eyes rolled back in my head. The feeling of his lips nibbling my bud, his teeth pinching, and his rough tongue teasing, combined with the opposite hand massaging was enough to put me out of my mind entirely. 

I uttered a deep moan as the heat of my lust spread through my veins. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my thighs shook a little with anticipation. 

"Do you like being at my mercy?" He whispered against my soft skin, the hand at my elbows tightened my "bonds" with a small adjustment of his finger. "I could do whatever I want to you… and you'd have to just watch."

 My eyes widened and I could feel my pupils dilate. I was eager to watch. 

His hand slid down my hip, then thrust underneath me and gripped the waist of my breeches. He hauled them down my thighs, then ducked and hooked my knees over his shoulder. 

"What if you aren't ready for me?" He whispered, his voice rough and gritty with arousal. He slid his free hand along the backs of my bare legs to where they met, tracing a finger along the fold of my sex.

I swallowed dryly, silently begging him to find out for himself. 

He slipped two large fingers within me, exploring the spaces near my opening, then upward to gently stroke at my clit. The action pushed a desperate whimper past my lips, and I tilted backwards, reveling in his touch. 

"No ma'am!" He chided, slapping me gently on the base of my rump. "You damn well better be paying attention, I don't appreciate being ignored."

He scowled, stepping away from my legs and hauling me roughly to my feet. 

"Generally, when I catch a trooper drifting off I have to make an example."

I trembled at the thought of his "punishment". 

He jerked at the twisted cloth that still held my arms, the other hand plastering me against him, his member pushing hard against my navel. 

"Drop."

I stared at him defiantly. His eyes glared down into mine. Danger and raw power pooling in their depths

"On. Your. Knees." 

I was defeated with little resistance. The command dripped with his dominance, and my weakness to it made itself known by conveniently running down my thigh.

"Yes sir," I rasped quietly. My mouth suddenly not dry anymore. He fucking new what I wanted. 

He loosened his grip on my arms, allowing the garment to slide free as I lowered myself before him. I clasped his thick thighs and guided him to turn and lean against the exam table. I pulled up the top of his black body glove, tracing my tongue over his abs. 

"Take it off," i whispered, "I want to look at you."

 The captain obeyed, rolling his bare shoulders and flexing his physique for my benefit and the view was splendid! My hand roamed with my eyes, up his rippling torso as high as I could reach and back down again, tracing the bronzed curves and inspecting a few ragged scars. He was a man built to be physical, compact muscle and sinew, wrapped in bronzed silk. My hands found the arch of his hips and hooked the waistband of his skin tight pants. Pulling them down slowly my eyes greedily devoured the V-shaped muscles that pointed the way to my "punishment". He was already sporting a raging erection, and I was forced to unhook him from the elastic before I could peel it away further down his thighs.

 His member arched upward before his belly, and without having touched him yet, I was already pretty confident that one of my hands couldn't close around him fully. By nature he was much darker than the rest of his skin, and his darker scrotum was drawn tightly, ready for work. 

He tapped me on the forehead with the spongy head. "Hey!" I giggled, pushing him away. 

"You're getting distracted down there! Get to it."

I cocked my head to the side, quirking an eyebrow up at him, keeping my eyes on his as I ran my tongue along his shaft, teasing at the vein underneath. He kept his face flat and stern, lips still pulled down in a scowl. 

Still watching, I repeated the long lick, but this time closed my lips over his head, tracing circles within my mouth. He twitched,  rolling his neck a bit, fighting to remain the dignified officer. 

I allowed my saliva to gather in my mouth, promising him mentally that I was going to put that military rank right in its grave. Perhaps he didn't know that caf was only my second favorite thing to put in my mouth. His punishment was my forte.

My lips crept slowly down his shaft, my tongue spreading saliva the entire way, preparing him for my attentions. I stopped about half way, and repeated the motion a few times. Sucking lightly with each retreat. He fidgeted with his jaw a few times. My hands circled his hips and gripped his hard ass, pulling his pelvis forward, while he remained leaning against the table. Watching intently, I descended along his cock again, my eyes holding his as innocently as I could manage. His own widened the deeper I took him, his lips finally dropping open with a gasp as he slid in to my throat and my lips pressed to his bronze skin. I swallowed against him, my tongue flitting about and drew away, savoring the deep groan that I was pulling out of him.

Gotcha captain.

I quickened my pace, not taking him as deeply, but sucking with force each time, my fingers clamped around his hips, arched into claws. Holding him prisoner. 

I would break away periodically, running my lips along the sides of his shaft, allowing his arousal to calm a little - no sense in hurrying him along. I wanted to savor this beautiful man.

His hand groped for my head, gently fisting my hair, the other finding my upper arm, kneeding and stroking as he drown in my touch. 

"Ah.. ah...ah'd...ddd..ikka".. he stuttered through his passion, when I took him again in my mouth. "Can you go harder??... GAH!"

He threw himself back as I scrubbed over his head with my tongue, toying with the small opening there. "I love your touch, Dala, its so good! I want to move but I'm afraid I'll hurt you!"

I surged forward down his cock, tearing another moan from his throat. Pulling away with a wet slurp, I met his gaze.

 "Well, do it then, sir. Aren't you the one punishing me?" I asked, stroking him firmly in my fist. 

He grinned, combing back a few escaped locks of my hair and closing his fingers through them firmly. Sliding my closed hand to the base of his member, I chased it with my mouth, tensing my neck and shoulders, the other hand traveling along his thigh to stroke between his legs, caressing the tightened globes there.

I repeated the motion again and again, varying in force and intensity, as the Captain's breath grew more ragged. Pushing him well past his limits, he began thrusting back in to my face, struggling to temper himself and not knock me senseless. The fist holding my hair would occassionally forget itself, hauling me away or forcing me forward when the pleasure got the better of him. I moved with him, savoring the taste of his skin, the salty warmth of the pre-cum that I was pulling out of him, the thrill of pleasuring this man with my mouth and hands. I had been hungry for him. Positively ravenous. And devour him I did. 

His moans were becoming louder and more frequent, with gasped praises and prayers flung from his lips at odd intervals. 

I sucked harder and moved faster, fighting my way towards his release. 

"Ngh!! Ad'ika! I'm close!" He cried. I met his eyes. "I want to… aagh!" he shuddered, loosing his train of thought momentarily. "I want to cum on your face!!!"

I couldn't very well nod, but unstead answered by putting my best effort in to the grand finale, tongue and mouth and hand working in unison to push him over the edge. 

His lashes fluttered shut, his head dropping backwards, Rex thrust against my mouth, a noise building in his chest. He repeated the motion with me. Again. On the fourth roll of his hips a shout tore from his throat, and I felt his hot seed pour over my tongue. I pulled away, allowing thick ropes of his cum to land on my cheeks and lips, down my neck and chest. 

I stroked his hips and thighs as he leaned back on his elbows, his climax rolling through him still. Sitting back on my heels, I simply enjoyed the sight, watching him in the afterglow of his release. He was still trembling, with the occasional violent shudder, breathing raggedly, his shaking hands kneeding at my wrists.

Eventually he lifted his head, fixing me with a bright eyed grin that made my insides positively twist. 

"Damn woman, that was intense!" He gasped, pulling me to my feet. He admired his handiwork on my chest. Then, with an impish grin, he signed off near my collar bone with his index finger, satisfied I had been properly chastized. 

"You ass!" I squealed dodging away. 

Laughing, he grabbed me and pulled me over to the sink. We quickly cleaned up together, and he pulled my breeches away along with socks and clogs. Snaking an arm around my waist, he dipped the other hand between my thighs, which was in quite a state: stimulation to my mouth tended to make me a hot mess. 

"Stars! Where is all of this coming from?" He nibbled at my lips, tasting himself in the process. 

"I guess its my punishment for not paying attention", I cooed saucily. "I suppose I'll have to tend to that elsewhere."

"Perish the thought, Sugar." He fisted himself, working his member as he kissed me again. "Give me a moment and I'll be in top form…" his voice dropped into the low growl that rattled my insides, " then we can continue with your…. Reprimand .."

He scooped me up, and dropped me unceremoniously back on to the table, pushing his already firm cock against my opening. 

"Your recovery time Rex, my God!" I gaped in wonder. He guided his member to my opening and sunk into me slowly, smiling at my low groan. 

"I've told your superior I need you to help me purge old injury reports. Should take the entire rest of the day..." He exhaled slowly, enjoying the delicious friction where we were joined. "... and I've a laundry list of poor behavior that needs to be "disciplined" out of you"

[scripttorture]

This may seem like a dumb question but my antagonist tortures my protagonists brother until he basically becomes a mindless drone and follows the antagonist's orders to the letter and believes everything they say. How would the villan torture this character into becoming this way?

It’s not a dumb question, pet, but it isn’t possible. Torture doesn’t work that way.

 Before I explain why (and why I think you should change this story) let me stress that I understand how you got here. There is a lot of misinformation about torture out there, in fiction and in otherwise accurate factual sources.

 It is easy to be misled. And a lot of the accurate information on torture is difficult to access, expensive or untranslated.

 You’ve been taken in by torture apologia and that is not your fault. I’ve seen journalists, politicians, academics and army generals all be taken in by this shit. I’m here to provide accurate sourced information, to the best of my ability and I’m going to advise major changes to this scenario in order to make it realistic and respectful to torture survivors. But what you do with the information I provide, what you’re comfortable doing with it, is up to you.

 Torture can not turn a person into a mindless drone.

 The mental illnesses torture causes do not make survivors ‘easy to control’. In fact there’s evidence that torture survivors are much more likely to oppose people who tortured them or even groups they associate with the torturers.

 Some of the mental illnesses torture can cause can make it harder for survivors to organise themselves and create an effective opposition. Some of the physical injuries torture can cause make it difficult or impossible to fight.

 But there is no abuse that can turn a person into a mindless automata. There is no torture that creates obedience.

 We are remarkably resilient, adaptable creatures. We are designed to survive.

 I think the choice you have here is pretty simple. You need to decide whether the torture or the obedience is the more important part of the story you want to tell.

 That’s not a choice I can or should make for you. You know your story best. You know what you want it to be about and the parts that move you. I’m not going to tell you what those parts should be.

 If you want a story about resilience, spite, anger and the lengths people will go to in order to defend what they believe in torture is an excellent fit.

 You can read about some of the common misconceptions here. You can read about the common symptoms survivors and torturers experience here. You can read about common memory problems here.

 I have a lot of collected sources here. Granted a lot of them cost money. I’m sorry about that, it isn’t fair. The evidence, research and the accounts of those most effected by torture should be easily available. But they aren’t. And I can’t do anything about it.

 I’d suggest looking at this post on Fela Kuti as well. Because everything I’ve read suggests that this anger, this opposition, this- Gods damned crazy level of spite is typical of the attitude torture survivors have towards torturers.

 Fela’s house was attacked because of his music criticising the military government. He was tortured. His friends were tortured. His mother, Chief Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, was thrown from a top storey window and killed.

 A few days after his release Fela marched her funeral procession past the biggest military barracks in the country’s main city. Then he wrote two songs about it.

 Torture radicalises. It creates entrenched, lasting opposition. It breeds hate.

 If you want obedience in your story then the first thing you need to do is remove all physical abuse. Including things like sleep deprivation, bad cell conditions and solitary confinement. All of these make obedience less likely.

 If you want perfect ‘mindless automata’ obedience, then you’re talking about magic.

 It doesn’t exist. I’m not sure if it can exist with our nervous systems. No living creature is ever perfectly obedient and it seems likely that such a state would not promote survival.

 So if your heart is set on absolutely perfect obedience I’d suggest making it magic and making it painless. The inclusion of pain is, realistically, only going make disobedience more likely.

 If ordinary ‘obeying to the best of my ability’ obedience is good enough for your purposes then I think the most helpful place to start is with ‘ICURE’, these are a set of techniques which are used to manipulate people. As with anything they are not 100% effective, but over long periods of time this set of behaviours (and environmental factors) can change a person’s beliefs and behaviour.

 It stands for Isolate, Control information, create Uncertainty, use Repetition and Emotive arguments.

 The first point should be pretty obvious. The character needs to be isolated from their previous social circle and support network. When people don’t receive any information from outside of the group the group eventually becomes their most trustworthy source. When they don’t have social contact outside the group they become reliant on the group for support.

 Controlling information means that anything the character learns is first filtered through the larger group. It’s a form of censorship which means the character is only exposed to information that supports the group/ideas the group wants the character to have.

 This is combined with creating uncertainty about beliefs the group wants the character to reject. Often this means only providing information that discredits their previous belief system. It can also mean extended discussions about ‘why x is wrong’.

 Repetition is, what it says on the tin. It’s repeating this pattern of only giving the character information the group wants them to have, positive messages about the ideals the group wants to instil and negative messages about previous belief systems. Consistent repetition over a long period of time has an effect on our beliefs. Sometimes it even effects them when we know the information is wrong.

 Emotive arguments means- well keeping any discussion away from logic. Something like- going from ‘well I’m not sure this idea about our belief system lines up with our holy text’ to the manipulative character asking why the target hates them/God/the entire church.

 Consistent use of these techniques over years can (but does not always) result in a person changing their beliefs and choosing to join the group/opposing side.

 There’s an ask here that you might find relevant. And another one here.

 Wrapping this up, whatever you decide remember that the victim always has a choice.

 It might not be a good choice. It might not be a free choice. But abuse and coercion do not take away someone’s ability to choose.

 If someone is being abused then they are much more likely to choose refusing, sabotage, self harm or violent attacks on the abuser then actual assistance.

 Someone who is being coerced or manipulated is still making a choice. And from their perspective it should be a choice that makes sense. One that’s practical, or reasonable or that they think serves their beliefs.

 Think about what this character would choose. Think about what looks possible and practical from their perspective. Why might aiding the villain seem like the ‘right’ choice?

 I hope that helps. :)

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[primrose-path-of-dalliance]

prim’s wildemount map scale adventures

i apologize in advance to the folk that use screen readers for this post’s reliance on image references, i will do my best to make my logic and the contents of the images comprehensible in the text portions.

this post isn’t about spoiler territory either, so i won’t go into detail about how recent developments with e111 were the initial reason i started thinking about distance on the official wildemount maps. besides, i think plenty of people will understand when i say that my digging got a lot bigger than the initial question itself lol. regardless, i’m making this post in the hopes that it might be a little helpful for anyone dealing with the same confusion.

see, i realized the funny thing about the official wildemount maps is that they don’t have any scales. as a basic explanation, scales are those funky little bars usually found on maps that illustrate what distance on the map is equivalent to what distance in ‘reality’—AKA the scale of the map.

however, for whatever reason, matt and co. did not create any for the broader wildemount maps like of the menagerie coast or the zemni fields.

[id: two images from the explorer’s guide to wildemount. the first depicts the region of the menagerie coast and related islands in the lucidian ocean. the second depicts the zemni fields, which is the central area of western wynandir and the dwendalian empire at large. map scales are absent from both images. /end id.]

this was a little baffling and unhelpful, but i’m not here to judge matt about his choice to not include scales, considering how it would give people on twitter even more ammunition to rudely question his dming with.

but then i discovered that the maps of the major cities do have scales.

(continuing past a readmore.)

[id: an image from the explorer’s guide to wildemount. it is a map of the city of rexxentrum, the capital of the dwendalian empire. in the lower left corner is a compass rose illustrating the cardinal directions and a scale. /end id.]

at first, i was excited. maybe i could use the city’s map scale to approximate a scale for the larger maps. it wouldn’t be super accurate, especially as things got bigger and errors grew larger, but it would be a little better for some thought experiments than no scale at all.

but then it got weirder.

since the map of rexxentrum takes up a full page, the resolution of the image makes it difficult to read the map scale. so let me zoom in.

[id: an image at a higher resolution of the lower left corner of the rexxentrum map, clearly displaying the compass rose and the scale. the scale is a thin horizontal bar separated into four equal lengths of alternating black and white, with indicators claiming that each part represents 500 miles for a total bar length of 2000 miles. /end id.]

so. maybe some of you can already tell what the problem is.

for those with slightly worse spatial understanding though, that map scale is measuring in miles. and a mile is pretty damn long.

let’s have a comparative illustration from real life to show my point. los angeles, california, is the city in the united states where the critical role cast live and work and stream us their wonderful d&d games. the los angeles area as a whole is massive. anyone who lives there understands what i’m saying and has probably wept before while in traffic (and i’m sorry).

if we use the google maps function to get a distance in miles between two points in the los angeles area...

[id: a screenshot of a google maps route for traveling on foot from the olive view-ucla medical center in the far north of the los angeles area to the los angeles international airport in the southwest. the route is fairly direct as the bird flies due to the on-foot nature of the route and is labeled to be a distance of 31.1 miles. /end id.]

this is a pretty good representation of the distance from one end of los angeles to the opposite end. a modern city with a population of about 4 million people, filled to the brim with urban sprawl and suburbs.

and that distance is 31 miles, or about 50 kilometres.

that scale in the corner of the rexxentrum map? its claimed length of 2000 miles (over 3200 km) measures less than a seventh of the apparent width of rexxentrum. according to the scale, you would have to travel a distance of over 14,000 miles (over 22,500 km) to get from one end of the city to the other.

simply put, that scale at face value is nonsense lol.

[id: a screenshot of discord messages with no identifying account attached. the messages begin with, in all caps, “EXCEPT THE SCALE FOR REXXENTRUM MAKES NO SENSE” (new line) “WHAT IS THIS MATT MERCER?????” an image of the lower left corner of the rexxentrum map follows. below that is the final visible message which reads, in all caps, “DO YOU KNOW HOW BIG A MILE IS SIR. DO YOU KNOW HOW FAR TWO THOUSAND MILES IS SIR.” /end id.]

so. maybe you are wondering if matt, huge nerd that he is, is making some oblique historical reference to a previous measurement of a “mile” that is way shorter than the modern standard mile. that was the first possible explanation to occur to me! unfortunately, based on the wikipedia article on the mile throughout history, there is no prior known definition of a “mile” short enough to make this scale make any sense.

so maybe the explanation is a unit error. maybe it’s meant to be a smaller unit of length, like a metre or a foot.

i spent a bit of time trying to guess which unit it might be by comparing details of the map to each other, since there are detailed individual buildings and roadways illustrated. it quickly became obvious, though, that the details were more for artistry and not to a reliable scale.

so it was time to dive into the transcripts.

i looked for a point where matt not only described the length of time it took for the mighty nein to travel from point A to point B within rexxentrum, but a point A and a point B that i could locate with confidence on the map. i found a scenario that fit the bill in e86, “the cathedral,” when the party raced from the cobalt soul branch in rexxentrum to the chantry of the dawn.

MATT: [...] And you've stepped out from the Rexxentrum Archive of the Cobalt Soul into the wet, slick cobblestone streets of the city, heading eastward towards the base of the Shimmer Ward, where it is believed this cathedral, known as the Chantry of the Dawn, stands.

this bit (beginning 13:39) is the first clue in matt’s narration to locating the endpoints on the map. the chantry of the dawn is located near the base, suggesting the immediate south, of the shimmer ward, and is in an eastward direction from the cobalt soul. this is consistent with the relevant textual descriptions in the explorer’s guide to wildemount: the rexxentrum branch of the cobalt soul is located within the court of colors on the west side of the city, while the chantry of the dawn is near the southern wall of the shimmer ward.

[id: two images of the rexxentrum map. the first is composed of the center and western area of the city, displaying the labeled wards of the tangles and the shimmer ward along with individual points labeled “R7,” “R6,” “R3,” “R1,” and “R2″ from west-most to east-most. at the bottom is the map scale, added for reference, that measures about a fifth of the entire image.

the second image is the legend of the map, which defines a few of the illustrated details and clarifies the R-series labels. truncated to relevance: R7 is the court of colors, R6 is the vigil’s circle, R3 is the academy grounds, R1 is castle ungebroch, and R2 is the candles. /end id.]

as the party made their way to the chantry, matt revealed a few more notable details on where precisely they’re traveling through (17:18).

MATT: [...] Your [Caleb’s] eyes train on the rising walkways and towers of the Soltryce Academy that are peeking over the walls of the Shimmer Ward that you can just make out on the horizon as you pass by a series of buildings where the roofs are a bit lower than the other ones you've been rushing by. You can see pale yellow walls that surround the Shimmer Ward of the capital.

You begin to approach the exterior of the Vigil’s Circle, which is a region between where you are and your destination, as noted by the network of ring-like streets that denote the circular marketplace, some varied shops, and industries that normally fill this area, as well as the mini-fortress of gray rock known as the Tower of Writ.

the view of the soltryce academy is consistent with an approach from the western side of the city, since the academy is located along the inner side of the shimmer ward’s northwest wall. the placement of the vigil’s circle in between the cobalt soul and the chantry is also consistent with their depictions on the map, as the vigil’s circle is both labeled and illustrated through a pattern of circular roads with an apparent depiction of the tower of writ in the center.

anyway, the mighty nein had traveled a little ways into the outskirts of the vigil’s circle from the west when they were abruptly stalled by a giant purple xhorhasian worm coming out of the ground.

at that moment in time is when liam gets a travel time from their current location to the chantry (21:26).

LIAM: Caduceus just asked how far we are from the chantry. Would I know that?

MATT: You would know you're probably about, I'd say, depending on— with it being pretty empty, maybe seven minutes.

this brings me to getting a precise location on the chantry of the dawn. both the explorer’s guide to wildemount and matt’s narration only describe the chantry as located within the tangles and near the southern wall of the shimmer ward. that’s a wide potential area to be seven minutes from.

there’s a pretty helpful pattern in the map details, though. most landmark buildings are visible—the soltryce academy campus is clearly delineated, as well as the colorful tower rooftops of the candles and, as previously noted, the top of the tower of writ. castle ungebroch stands massive in the center of the shimmer ward illustration.

so if the chantry of the dawn is both a huge structure and a significant landmark, that should merit a visible illustration of it on the map.

[id: the image of the western and central area of rexxentrum plus map scale appended to the bottom, edited to include my personal labels. R7 is encircled in red with the label “cobalt soul,” R6 and the visible circular road complex is encircled in blue with the label “vigil’s circle,” and a large rectangular rooftop by the southwest corner of the shimmer ward is encircled in red with the label “chantry to [sic] the dawn.” /end id.]

the position of this large building fits the details of the narration and its description in the explorer’s guide—it’s near the southern wall of the shimmer ward, it is eastward of the cobalt soul, and streets of the vigil’s circle lie on the direct path from the court of colors to this building.

so there’s the approximate location of the chantry of the dawn. we also know the approximate location of the mighty nein on this map.

[id: an image, almost identical to the last, of the marked-up western and central area of the rexxentrum map plus map scale, but with a further addition of an orange star in the northwest corner of the vigil’s circle labeled “mighty 9.” /end id.]

since they had entered the outskirts of the vigil’s circle from the direction of the cobalt soul, they would be within its northwest area by the time they were interrupted via purple worm shortly after.

two approximate locations with a travel time in between means that now i could estimate a distance in length. so i took a look at the d&d official rules for movement speed:

a fast pace is about 400 feet per minute,

a normal pace is about 300 feet per minute.

for campaign 2, matt as a dm tends to follow the official rules. so taking into account how the urgency of the situation had the party moving quickly, along with the emptiness of the streets eliminating the variable of a slowed pace through crowds, the mighty nein are likely traveling between 300 and 400 feet per minute to get to the chantry.

with matt’s provided estimate of 7 minutes, that means the on-foot distance from the party’s current position to the chantry is somewhere between 2100 to 2800 feet.

[id: a zoomed-in image of the marked-up western and central rexxentrum map, focused on the vigil’s circle and the chantry of the dawn. imposed beside the orange star representing the mighty nein’s location and the chantry is the map scale edited to remove the ‘miles’ indicator. its position allows a viewer to measure the distance between the mighty nein and the chantry to about “1500,″ or three-fourths of the total length of the scale. /end id.]

since the scale there measures distance as the bird flies, comparing it to the probable distance the mighty nein had to travel needs to account for the twists and turns of the streets.

with that in mind, though: an as-the-bird-flies distance of around 1500 feet sounds like a pretty good approximation of the estimated on-foot distance of 2100 to 2800 feet!

so with that, it’s probably safe to guess the map scale meant to claim feet instead of miles as its unit of length.

so far i haven’t puzzled out how i might translate this into a makeshift scale for the larger maps, since none of the cities like rexxentrum are clearly illustrated on them. but if anyone was very confused about the unit of length for the city maps’ scales, i think i’ve reached a reliable conclusion that it should be feet.

hopefully some of you find this helpful!

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream: Artemis Fowl

Since the early 2000s, Artemis Fowl has been languishing in development hell, and it really is a mystery as to why. The series has everything you could possibly want for a blockbuster young adult franchise: it’s a charming blend of science and fantasy with rich worldbuilding and mythology, it has enjoyable and even complex characters who go through great character arcs over the course of the series, it has an enjoyable major antagonist, an insufferable smug villain protagonist who goes through a stellar redemption arc over the course of the series, and tons of crazy heists that combine scheming and fairy magic. There was no reason this couldn’t have existed as a competitor to the Harry Potter series, but alas, it was not to be. The young adult fantasy franchise languished for decades in development hell, until finally Disney pulled it out and put Kenneth Branagh at the helm. Finally, we were going to get the Artemis Fowl adaptation we deserved!

Except we didn’t.

Artemis Fowl is legitimately one of the worst adaptations of any work of fiction ever. It has been held up alongside The Last Airbender and The Lightning Thief as part of the Unholy Trinity of terrible adaptations, and I’m not even going to try and pretend that this “Honor” isn’t well and truly earned. This film is an utterly abominable bastardization of the beloved franchise, to the point where this feels like an entirely different story that had familiar names slapped on it at the last second. If you want to know what horrific extents this film has butchered the story and characters, read onward, but there’s no way I’m going to pretend this film isn’t awful right off the bat.

There is literally nothing in this film that works. Nothing at all. Starting from the opening scene, the establishing shots, you can tell things are wrong – there are news people around Fowl Manor? Mulch is being interrogated? What is going on? The film from the word go is simply making one thing absolutely and abundantly clear: this is not the Artemis Fowl you know. The film goes out of its way to do the opposite of the franchise, merely using names and vague concepts in an attempt to sucker fans into watching it. Butler’s first name, an emotional reveal from the third book, is common knowledge; Opal Koboi, a cunning and threatening major villain who was the antagonist for almost every novel starting with the second, is here reduced to basically a personification of the voice on the phone from Scream; Root, once a short-tempered man who was hard on Holly as a method of tough love to push her to be the very best LEP had to offer to prove women belonged on the force, is here a woman who, while just as angry as ever, robs Holly of a major part of her arc and reduces her to plucky female sidekick. And even outside of that, as its own thing, the movie is just utterly incomprehensible. The story is rushed and confusing, with lots of exposition and action but with no context or cohesion. Things happen and things go from scene to scene, but none of it makes any sort of sense. A character will switch allegiances within a few minutes, characters will somehow find a way to survive deadly attacks offscreen… the worst offender is a character death they try to push off as emotional, despite there being no reason to care for this character, and when all hope seems lost, a deus ex machina saves the day! My wife, who is unfamiliar with the series, and I, a huge fan, both struggled to figure out what was going on at any given point; the movie is really that bad at communicating what is happening, which is even more baffling because the film is a pathetic hour and a half in length, a distressingly short amount of time to establish a new science-fantasy franchise of this scale.

The characters are almost all terrible. Artemis is the standout with how awful he is; no longer the cunning criminal masterminds of the book, Artemis here is more of a somewhat smug little brat who is overly emotional and, worst of all, NICE. He’s so nice in fact that by the end of the film he has managed to speedrun his character development and arcs with Mulch and Holly, who consider him their close friend and ally. Butler is pretty bad here as well, mostly because he is given almost nothing to do and is seemingly only there because he was in the book. In fact, his crowning moment – when he took on the troll – is instead given to Artemis and even Holly, with Butler ending up severely injured. It’s a bit nasty that they changed Butler to be black and then had his (white) master steal his greatest moment; it’s giving me flashbacks to Kazaam. Opal is hit pretty bad as well; being made the big bad of this loose adaptation of the first book’s plot – which is amusingly one of the few books she had absolutely no role in – wouldn’t be so rough if she was more of a presence and not just some vague, hooded figure who threatens Artemis over the phone and generally does nothing to warrant being an adaptation of the baddest bitch in the series. She’s rather ineffectual and they even try and give her a sort of sympathetic motivation, one where she resents humans for pushing her kind underground. It really is a disgusting waste of a character who could easily rival heavy hitters like Voldemort in the awesome and theatrically evil department.

Holly is almost okay, but her entire arc and a big chunk of her narrative purpose is robbed by making Commander Root a woman. Root, played by Judi Dench, is honestly one of the better characters since Dench has Root dropping lines like “Top o’ the morning to ya” with gravelly deadpan seriousness which makes the character unintentionally hilarious, but the cheap laughs don’t really make up for butchering the story of one of fiction’s finest ladies. As a side note, they have made Holly 100% white despite her skin being described as nut brown rather frequently in the book, and the now white Holly together with Artemis steal away Butler’s biggest moment. And that’s not even getting into how they neutered Juliet, who has also been race lifted but was turned into a child who barely appeared in the film. I’m not usually one to toss about racism accusations, but there’s a lot of red flags here that Branagh’s usual colorblind casting just doesn’t excuse.

The most consistently enjoyable performance is Josh Gad’s as Mulch. From the moment he was cast, I knew he’d do a good job and capture the spirit of the character, and he does! ...sort of. The decision to have Mulch be a giant dwarf and narrate the story in a crappy Batman impression while also violating literally the most important law of fairy culture (don’t tell the humans anything about us) by spilling the beans to M16 is unbearably stupid, and a lot of his jokes are just relentlessly unfunny. But I think that Gad does leak a bit of that Mulch charm at a few points, and it’s apparent he at least somewhat gets his character, which is not something that can be said for anyone else in this film. Sadly, much like his standout performance as Lefou in the live action Beauty and the Beast, he can’t possibly save the trainwreck of a film he’s in.

I guess I’m not entirely surprised by this film. I mean, a lot of quality young adult literature from the past two decades has been horrifically mangled in the wake of Harry Potter – Inkheart, The Golden Compass, The Lightning Thief, Ender’s Game, and Eragon – so this movie really isn’t an anomaly. But it is the culmination of a horrible trend. This is the zenith of horrible young adult adaptations, or perhaps I should say the nadir of adaptations as a whole? For all the flak I could give those other adaptations, on some fundamental level they still understood something about the source material. Ender’s Game still understood it could not erase the ending where children are revealed to be being conscripted to perform the ethnic cleansing of an alien race. Eragon couldn’t completely ruin Saphira, try as it might. The Lightning Thief… well, I mean, I guess the Medusa scene was mostly faithful. But Artemis Fowl? Artemis Fowl goes out of its way to be the opposite of its literary counterpart that there is no way to justify even saying it is based on the book by Eoin Colfer; it would be like having a movie about kids hanging out at the mall and doing mundane stuff, except they’re all named Jesus and Peter and Paul and then saying it’s based on the Bible. Just using names doesn’t mean anything, you actually have to use the themes and characterizations too, and this movie does none of that.

This movie is most comparable to The Emoji Movie. Neither of these works really deserve to be called a “Film” since they are basically whatever it is they’re trying so desperately to be stripped down to the bare essentials. The Emoji Movie is the most basic, by-the-numbers animated adventure film with a “be yourself” message you could ever hope to see, with a story so absolutely basic that just watching the trailer will allow you to predict the every motion of the plot. Artemis Fowl on the other hand is the most cliche-ridden fantasy epic franchise-starter you could imagine, and that’s if you’re able to penetrate the ridiculously dense and cluttered story and are able to make sense of what’s going on. I can think of absolutely no one this film could ever appeal to. There’s not a single redeeming thing about it. The movie is flashy, trashy junk that should never have been released, and Disney honestly did the right thing by releasing this on their streaming service because it would be outright disgusting to charge movie ticket prices for this tripe. The fact Disney has more faith in the eternally-delayed New Mutants theatrically speaks volumes about the quality of this film.

I can’t in good conscious say that this is the worst film of all time. F4ntastic is probably a much worse butchering of characters than this film; Disaster Movie is much more horrendously offensive and unfunny than this; hell, Chicken Little is probably a worse Disney movie because as awful as everyone in this film is, at least they aren’t Buck Cluck! But I don’t think there’s a single movie I hate more than this one. Lucy can finally move over and sleep easy knowing that the fact it’s not based on a pre-existing work has finally saved it from the #1 spot on my worst list; Artemis Fowl is now the reigning champ. Kenneth Branagh should be ashamed of himself for making and releasing this (and doubly ashamed for having the gall to unironically compare his slaughtering of Artemis Fowl’s character to Michael Corleone), Disney should be shamed for putting more money into this film than they did into BLM charities, and I hope that Eoin Colfer finds whatever he was paid worth it to see his greatest creation butchered and disrespected like this.

[uncloseted]

So I've had a conversation with a friend, and he was telling me that gay people are not Born gay but become gay because of social experiences and I called that homophobic he got really offended and said he was not that he didn't care if someone is gay or not but it's a fact and a point made by many psychologists that people become gay because of their environment, I said what I found homophobic was the implication it's like a mental disease he said he didn't believe it was a disease but that if you say it's inherent it's like saying it's genetic which it's not and that the same person has different chances of becoming gay according to their family and socio cultural experiences. It did got me thinking, are you aware of such studies and their revelance?

The answer to the question “what makes people gay” is really nuanced and I think probably more complicated than you might have expected.  I’ll get into explaining those nuances the best that I can in a second, but I think the best answer to your friend’s argument is just that he has the correlation and causation backwards.  

People who are raised in environments where being LGBT+ is permissible aren’t more likely to be gay; they’re just more likely to come out of the closet because they know they’ll be accepted and that they won’t be in any danger.  In places where homophobia is rampant, of course there appear to be fewer LGBT+ people- the LGBT+ people who are out in those places are disowned, harassed, bullied, attacked, and sometimes killed.  It makes sense that more LGBT+ people would opt to stay in the closet in a situation where violence is a possibility.  This comes out in the data; although it appears that more gay men live in costal cities in the US, the percentage of internet porn searches for gay male porn are the same across all states, around 5%.

Moving on to the “causes” of homosexuality, it’s likely a lot of different things in combination, and there’s not exactly a scientific consensus just yet.  Male homosexuality may have different causes than female sexuality and bisexuality, and trans identities are also a separate set of factors.  For the purposes of this conversation, let’s focus on male homosexuality, as it’s the most studied.

First, a couple of things that it’s not: per the Royal College of Psychiatrists, there’s no evidence that parenting or early childhood experiences play a role in sexual orientation.  Per the American Academy of Pediatrics, “there is no scientific evidence that abnormal parenting, sexual abuse, or other adverse life events influence sexual orientation. Current knowledge suggests that sexual orientation is usually established during early childhood.”  Children who grow up to be non-heterosexual are, on average, substantially more gender non-conforming in childhood (even if they’re bullied for it), supporting the idea that sexuality is established early in life.  Sexual orientation is not a choice (here, here, and here).  In (old, unethical) studies where newborn and infant boys were surgically reassigned into girls and raised as girls, they did not become more feminine or male-attracted than their AMAB counterparts.  Socialization does not induce feminine behaviors in men or make them attracted to men. “Nurture” is a lot stronger than “nature” in this case.  There are no scientifically rigorous studies that support the idea that sexuality can be changed after birth, whether through surgical treatments, lobotomies, hormone treatments, electric chock treatments, aversion therapy, hypnosis, psychoanalysis, or any other type of conversion treatment.  I would love to see his sources on all of these psychologists who supposedly believe people are gay due to their social environment.

Sexual orientation appears to be a complex interplay of biological and environmental (but not social) factors. Nonsocial, biological factors have more evidence to support them than environmental factors, particularly in homosexual men.  So your friend isn’t entirely wrong, although he’s right for the wrong reasons.  Environment is a factor, and so is family (since that’s where you get your genes and epigenetics from) but homosexuality is inherent.

Let’s start with strictly biological factors that go into sexual orientation.

One of the biggest hypotheses for the cause of homosexuality is the impact of hormones on a developing fetus. I’m going to skip over a lot of biology here, but basically the core of this theory is that gay men’s brains may have been exposed to less testosterone in the womb than their heterosexual counterparts, had less receptivity to the masculinizing effects of the testosterone, or experienced fluctuations in hormones at key times in their development.  In women, it’s hypothesized that the opposite is true- lesbians may have been exposed to higher levels of testosterone.  This is supported by right hand finger digit ratios (the length of the index finger divided by the length of the ring finger), which are a marker of prenatal testosterone exposure- lesbians have a lower digit ratio than heterosexual women, while gay men have a higher digit ratio than straight men.  Gay men may have been exposed to more testosterone than their straight counterparts for a number of different reasons, including maternal immune response and fraternal birth order, genes, epigenetics, and prenatal environmental chemical exposure.  We’ll go over each of those below:

Maternal immune responses during fetal development are demonstrated as being a cause of male homosexuality.  During pregnancy of a male child, male cells enter a mother’s bloodstream.  These cells are foreign to the mother, and so her body develops antibodies to neutralize them.  Again, skipping over a lot of nitty-gritty biology here, but basically, the more pregnancies a woman has, the better her body gets at neutralizing male cells (particularly, Y-linked antigens) and the more antibodies she has against those Y-linked antigens.  

In turn, this creates what’s known as the “fraternal birth order effect”- basically, the more male sons a woman has, the more likely it is that her next son will be gay.  One study found that each additional older brother increases the odds of a man being gay by 33%.  Researchers have found that mothers with a gay son have heightened levels of antibodies to the NLGN4Y Y-protein than mothers with heterosexual sons.  The fraternal birth order effect is estimated to account for between 15 and 29% of male homosexuality.  Some studies have identified structural differences in the brains of homosexual men as opposed to heterosexual men that are due to prenatal hormonal exposure.  For example, straight men typically have right hemispheres that are 2% larger than their left, while in gay men the two hemispheres are typically the same size. 

Genes also play a role in sexual orientation.  Identical twins are more likely to share a sexual orientation than fraternal twins or adopted siblings (an estimated 80% of identical twins share a sexual orientation).  The largest study on the genetic basis of sexuality, published in Science, determined that there are at least five different genes that are correlated with homosexuality.  The genes identified do all sorts of different things, and some have functions that are yet to be determined.  An estimated 25% of sexual behavior is attributed to genetics.  Another study found that maternal female relatives of homosexual men tend to have more offspring, suggesting that genetic material that promotes fertility in women and homosexuality in men is being genetically passed down on the X chromosome.  Researchers estimated that this explains about 20% of genetic homosexuality (which is right in line with the estimate that there are four other genes involved).

Epigenetic factors also impact a person’s sexuality.  Epigenetic changes are changes in gene activity that are not caused by changes to the DNA sequence itself.  Epigenetic factors can “turn on” or “turn off” the expression of certain genes.  Per an article from The Guardian, “think of DNA as an orchestral score, the notes on the page unchanging. But the annotations on the manuscript will dictate how the music sounds, with crescendo and lento and adagio. The conductor and orchestra play their annotated manuscript, and each performance is unique, even when the original scores are identical.”  Epigenetic marks can be “turned on” or “turned off” during gestation as well as after birth.  Researchers hypothesize that epigenetic factors change how cells respond to androgen signaling, which is critical to sexual development.  Like we talked about above, fetal levels of exposure to the androgen, testosterone, seem to impact sexual orientation.  In gay men, the epigenetic marks responsible for managing the amount of testosterone the fetus is exposed to are thought to be too aggressive, blocking testosterone from reaching the fetus. This is pretty new research still, so the evidence to support it is limited, but one study found that the methylation pattern (the epigenetic change) in nine regions of the genome appeared to be linked to sexual orientation, and could use it to predict the sexual orientation of a group with 70% accuracy. 

There are a handful of statistical physiological differences between gay and straight man in addition to the difference in brain hemisphere size I mentioned above.  These are averages across populations, so they may not apply to each and every homosexual or heterosexual individual.  The suprachiasmatic nucleus of the hypothalamus is larger in gay men than in non-gay men.  The INAH 3 in the brains of gay men are the same size as the INAH 3 in women; both are smaller than in heterosexual men’s brains. Homosexual and heterosexual brains respond differently to two putative sex pheromones.  The amygdala is more active in gay men than straight men when exposed to sexual material.  Gay men are more likely to be left handed or ambidextrous than straight men.  Gay men are more likely to have a counterclockwise hair whorl than the general population, which is also correlated with left handedness.  Gay men have increased ridge density in the fingerprints on their left thumbs and little fingers compared to straight men.  These are all minor, but support the idea that there is a biological basis to homosexuality.

Now that we’ve gotten through the biological factors, let’s talk environmental.  When we say, “environmental” people usually think of the environment a child is raised in- who they parents are, how their parents act, who their friends are, what kind of activities they do, etc.  But in this case, that’s not what we mean.  The impact of a person’s environment after birth seems to have a weak effect on sexual orientation at best; there is no substantial evidence to suggest that early childhood experiences influence sexual orientation at all.  So in that case, what do we mean by “environmental”?  We’re really talking about the environment the mother was in during the pregnancy, and the prenatal environment that the fetus experienced (the hormonal influences that we talked about above).  These may include things like maternal exposure to anti-androgenic chemicals and endocrine disruptors while pregnant.  However, given that homosexual people have always been present, even pre-industrialization, these factors cannot be considered central to what causes homosexuality. 

[khunfounded]

Stuck in the Cave

This one is pretty long and serious, birds, and if you are uncomfortable with the discussion of toxic relationships I recommend skipping it. I’ll cut it off before any analysis this time. 

It’s about Rachel and Bam’s tumultuous relationship, so if that interests you, read on.

Tonight we are discussing three songs from the same album, Hospice, which depicts the entirety of a female perpetuated abusive relationship. It has a lot of nuance and treats the both individuals as humans, rather than entirely a monster and an angel.

The songs are Shiva, Kettering, and Epilogue by The Antlers. I’ll have the videos in front of each analysis rather than all at the top to make it less blocky.

Let’s begin with Shiva.

The entirety of Hospice is told through a metaphor about a hospital worker who gets into a toxic relationship with a patient, which I think is really fitting considering the arc of Rachel pretending that she is paralyzed from the waist down.

Suddenly every machine stopped at once And the monitors beeped the last time Hundreds of thousands of hospital beds And all of them empty but mine

I think these lines fit the exact moment that Rachel pushes Bam. For Bam it is sudden, unexpected. Though for Rachel, who metaphorically has been in the hospital bed for a while, it was a long time coming.

The one chance for Rachel to keep their relationship ended with that push, when the monitors beeped the last time, though Bam did not know it yet.

After that, Bam is alone. Even when he is surrounded by people, they are all using him to perpetuate their agenda. So, there are many beds, but there is no one there with Bam, either in a hospital bed or visiting him. Well, I was lying down with my feet in the air Completely unable to move The bed was misshapen, and awkward and tall And clearly intended for you

When Bam is forced into joining Fug, he can’t move. They have him in check. If he does try anything, they will destroy the one good thing he found. The people who would have visited him in the hospital.

These last two lines remind me of when Khun tells Rachel that if she truly cared about Bam, she wouldn’t be coming up the tower while Bam was stuck underneath it. The bed, the ruin, was made for her, but she escaped it by putting Bam in her place.

You checked yourself out when you put me to bed And tore that old band off your wrist But you came back to see me for a minute or less And left me your ring in my fist

The theme of the bed intended for Rachel continues in this stanza. Without anyone (except Fug, who I personally see as the hospital administrators) knowing, she checked herself out of the hospital and placed Bam there instead.

The hospital band is Rachel’s supposed fate of not being worthy of the tower (though you could argue that her cunning and luck actually does make her worthy, but I’m not), which she tore off by sheer force of will.

The minute or less she came to visit him is the push, and the ring (which in the context of the album is a wedding ring) is what is left of their relationship. Bam, because Rachel is so integral to him, is stuck with it, while Rachel is not. He has both rings now, and the relationship is completely one-sided.

For Rachel, to possibility of joining the stars (whether seeing them or becoming one) is worth the dissolution of a completely devoted love. Though, that love of Bam’s is completely healthy, fueled by his loneliness and the fact that for the longest time the only good thing he ever knew was Rachel. She knows this, which is part of why she gives back the ring. She thinks that even if she picks Bam, he will leave her once he is loved and loves other people. My hair started growing, my face became yours My femur was breaking in half The sensation was scissors and too much to scream So instead, I just started to laugh

Now this, this fits so well.

Bam’s hair is such an important part of his character. Not only does it track the years, it also tracks his emotional state. He is at his lowest when it is at its longest, (which is poignant considering the length of Rachel’s), happiest when it’s shortest, and most in control of his destiny when it is in-between, since at that point is able to choose its length.

I think the second half of the stanza represents the mental break and subsequent cognitive dissonance that he goes through because his mind cannot handle the idea of his most precious person betraying him.

Oof, one down two to go. This is tough.

Now, onto Kettering. 

Ouch, this one hurts.

I wish that I had known in that first minute we met The unpayable debt that I owed you Because you'd been abused by the bone that refused you And you hired me to make up for that

Throughout much of the series, Bam believes he owes Rachel a debt because of the hope she gave him in the cave, though in my opinion she did less than the minimum (though no one owes anyone anything, I still believe that sometimes basic human kindness should win out. Well, morality quandaries for another time).

The bone that refused her was her fate of being unworthy of climbing the tower, which everyone and anyone told her whenever they could. Honestly, that would turn me bitter, too. This is a good chunk of why she is so venomous towards Bam, because his fate and outlook are quite literally the opposite of hers.

To Rachel, everything comes so easily to Bam, whilst she has to claw and fight and lie for every scrap that she can. Though, we all know better. Bam’s life is filled with suffering.

Thus, she hires Bam to make up for her destiny. She tries to take his place and put him in hers. Also, she is just fundamentally cruel to him, trying to ruin every good thing he has every chance that she gets. Walking in that room when you had tubes in your arms Those singing morphine alarms out of tune Kept you sleeping and even And I didn't believe them when they called you a hurricane thunderclap

Everyone tells Bam that Rachel is bad news, but he only sees the girl that gave him light and had her chance to climb the tower violently ripped away from her.

It takes Rachel doing to Khun what she has been doing to Bam all this time to get him to realize that he truly does not know her at all. When I was checking vitals I suggested a smile You didn't talk for a while, you were freezing You said you hated my tone, it made you feel so alone And so you told me I ought to be leaving

This is basically a continuation of the theme of Rachel treating Bam cruelly while he tries his best to make her life better.

It reminds me a lot of the moments right before Rachel pushes Bam, and for a few seconds her demeanor shifts, shocking him  But something kept me standing by that hospital bed I should have quit, but instead, I took care of you You made me sleep and uneven And I didn't believe them when they told me that there was no saving you

Bam is stuck standing by Rachel because of his devotion and the toxic relationship that they have created. For the longest time, he tries to find her and take care of her, but she doesn’t want that. She wants to see the stars. Without him.

He doesn’t see it, though, no matter what they people who really love him try to say.

Next, next, next.

It’s the Epilogue.

Finally, we are at a point where Bam realizes how toxic their relationship truly is.

This one is dense, birds.

In a nightmare, I am falling from the ceiling into bed beside you You're asleep, I'm screaming, shoving you to try to wake you up And like before, you've got no interest in the life you live when you're awake Your dreams still follow storylines like fictions you would make

I do not believe for a second that Bam doesn’t have nightmares about Rachel. She is such a large part of his life and his psyche. He must have trauma both about wondering if he could have saved their relationship and what she has done to his loved ones.

Rachel is asleep. She thinks that what she is doing to see the stars is worth it, but Bam knows better. He has lived the destruction and suffering she has caused.

She has no interest for a world where she is unworthy of the tower, so she dreams up a new one and tries to make it real.

So I lie down against your back until we're both back in the hospital But now it's not a cancer ward, we're sleeping in the morgue Men and women in blue and white, they are singing all around you With heavy shovels holding earth, you're being buried to your neck            

In that hospital bed, being buried quite alive now. 

I'm trying to dig you out but all you want is to be buried there together

This again harkens back to the idea of Bam having nightmares about Rachel. The morgue is his fears that what is happening will ruin them both.

The men and women are everyone in the war that are adding onto the pressure and consequences of this fight. In the end, Tower of God truly is about Bam and Rachel’s relationship and all the fallout that it causes

Bam sees that Rachel is being buried by the decisions she has made, and he is slowly being buried, too. Though, unlike Rachel, he is trying to dig their way out and save them both.

You're screaming And cursing And angry And hurting me And then smiling And crying Apologizing

This chorus is haunting, especially because of the singer’s voice (which is even worse if you imagine the singer is Bam) . It is demonstrative of the two faces that Rachel shows, and the abuse that she puts Bam through just to see the stars.

It evokes the image of Rachel and Bam in the meadow after Rachel has been stabbed. Rachel apologizes to Bam, though he does not truly know why. I've woken up, I'm in our bed, but there's no breathing body there beside me Someone must have taken you while I was stuck asleep But I know better as my eyes adjust, you've been gone for quite a while now And I don't work there in the hospital, they had to let me go

After Rachel puts Khun into a coma, Bam wakes up and he sees their relationship for what it truly is. There is still a part of him, though, that wonders what went wrong. 

His eyes are still adjusting, even after he has awoken.

When Bam leaves the hospital, he is leaving their one-sided toxic dynamic, though much like the physical injuries he has suffered, there are still scars.

When I try to move my arms sometimes, they weigh too much to lift I think you buried me awake, my one and only parting gift But you return to me at night just when I think I may have fallen asleep Your face is up against mine, and I'm too terrified to speak

Sometimes, what he has gone through makes it tough for him to go on. I am glad Bam has such a wonderful, loving support system.

Again, nightmares and trauma caused by Rachel. Things like what she has done to Bam never truly leave you. She has gifted him with immense trauma, and scars that may fade to silver but will never disappear. You're screaming And cursing And angry And hurting me And then smiling And crying Apologizing

Thank you for reading, please watch video of puppies after this.

[livralph]

Two hours of peace

Simon

Baz has his face pressed into my stomach. We’re on the sofa in the living room which the rest of his family almost completely neglects— Daphne doesn’t like the kids going in here because the furniture is all too expensive to be damaged. Baz said that she’d be okay with the two of them being in there because he was careful and even though I’m really not he said Daphne doesn’t know me well enough to know that. I think everyone knows me well enough to know I could shatter a styrofoam cup just by looking at it.

There’s a chance Baz is asleep. We’ve been lying on this sofa for an hour and he’s barely moved since we sat down. Or, since I sat down with my my legs across the sofa, and he dropped on top of my legs. Eventually, he ended up laying between them. With his face shoved into my stomach. It can’t be comfortable. His arms are pushing into his chest and my legs at odd angles, and I’m not entirely sure how easy it can be for him to breath given that his nose feels smushed into me.

I can’t hear anyone but him. The house is huge though, so I’m not surprised. When we left everyone they were in the kitchen, at the opposite end of the house. Fiona and Malcom had started gently arguing, Daphne was trying to feed her youngest children, and Mordelia looked like she wanted to leave as soon as she could. It’s not like I can say something about that though because, as much as I like Baz’s family, they’re a lot. He dragged me out the second Fiona raised her voice a little above a whisper and Mordelia jumped in with whatever opinion she had on the situation. I think maybe Baz lied when I asked how old she was. No seven year old I’ve met before has known literally anything about politics— but I’ve mostly only met Normal kids. And this family is as far from Normal as it gets.

Before he sat with me — on me — Baz waved his wand towards a docking station in the corner and used thank you for the music to get it to play whatever it was that was already lined up. He doesn’t like ABBA. I said as much but he just mumbled something about them being useful. When the soundtrack for Mama Mia! started playing I nearly laughed. Baz just huffed and dropped onto the sofa with me.

My hands have been sat awkwardly at my sides for the entire hour we’ve been sat doing nothing, and I’m starting to get a little bit restless. Even though my wings are stretched out behind me as limply as I can hold them and I’m trying not to flap them and break anything, it’s not like I can trust myself. It’s impossible for me to stay still for very long now. Penny thinks that it’s because I can’t use my magic at the moment and that because I had so much that was constantly bubbling to the surface I technically was never doing absolutely nothing. Now that’s not happening I find it harder to stay still. Apparently. Penny thinks so.

I move my hands to Baz’s hair, running my fingers through it carefully so that I have something to do with them. So that I don’t accidentally knock the vase on the sideboard behind me onto the floor and break it. Fingers don’t catch a single knot. After a few minutes I mostly stop moving my hand out of annoyance. Even if I brushed my hair ten times a day there it would still be impossible to get a brush straight through it. Also, it’s not like I’m a very gentle person, and I don’t want to wake him up. He hasn’t been sleeping much, and I keep waking up in the middle of the night only to see he’s stood next to his open window looking out. One of my fingers is still softly twirling a strand of hair around it, hopefully too softly for him to feel it.

He stirs a little bit in my lap, face pressing against my stomach harder than it had been and also leaning his head back into one of my hands a little. Baz twists around to look at me and I sigh deeply. He pouts a little bit and copies my sigh. “Why did you stop?” I can hear the pout as he speaks. It’s even more pronounced in his voice than it is on his face.

“Thought you were asleep.”

“I’m never asleep.” His hand reaches up and holds mine against his head to coax me into moving it again.

“You’re like a cat.” I think this a lot. He does act like a cat. The fact that he pretended to hate me and acted like I was the worst person in the world when he was actually obsessed with me only backs it up. One of the homes I went to had a cat, which is how I know they’re weird like that. She scratched my hand when I was trying to give her attention, then when I didn’t she followed me around meowing.

“Cats are evil, Snow.” My hand is back to stroking Baz’s hair, trying to run my fingers through it even though most of it is now wedged between in his head and my stomach. My thumb gently brushes against his cheekbone. It almost seems like he leans into the touch.

I think I’m smiling at him. Have I been smiling at him the whole time? There’s a chance I have. All I’ve done for an hour is watch him as he rested on my stomach while he apparently wasn’t sleeping. Penny says I’m always smiling at him now, but I always say it’s not true. We barely spend time actually together now. He’s at Watford, I’m at Penny’s or Agatha’s. Even if all the while I am thinking about being at Watford with him. “You’re evil.” I retort, cupping his cheek in my hand. This time he is definitely pressing his face into it.

“Maybe.” Then he shrugs, which is awkward from the way he’s lying and somehow his hair ends up caught under him in the motion and we have to move away from each other so that he can sort it out. My legs are still on the sofa, and he’s kneeling between them. Baz uses a hair tie on his wrist to pull back the shoulder length hair in to a bun. It’s horrifically messy, and I can already tell half of it must be still falling out over the back of his neck. Usually he’d look in the mirror and fix it, but he just rearranged himself to have his legs either side of mine then falls heavily against my chest. Somehow he manages to push his arms to be hugging me around the middle and I want to laugh. Baz is not clingy.

“You’re being weird.” I say, allowing his head to tuck under my chin and wrapping my arms around him.

He digs his nails into the base of where my wings join to my back, where his finger tips ended up resting. Not so hard, just enough that it twinges for the second he holds them there. When he loosens his grip again the feeing is gone. “I feel weird. Constantly. The house is too full.” The house isn’t full. There are nine people in it and it could fit a bit over twenty five. I’ve been in care homes with this many people in that barely had room for seven. I don’t say anything though. “I just want to be somewhere with you.”

I tense up at his words. Not on purpose; my stomach dropped and my body just sort of followed suit. It wasn’t in a bad way. It was in a way that felt very much like I couldn’t exactly process the words.

“Sorry.” He mutters, pressing his nose up against my neck softly, touching it to my pulse point. His lips brush my Adam’s apple and I swallow. What time is it? We’ve been here an hour and Daphne was feeding the youngest three. So maybe there’s another hour left until we collect our food from the kitchen.

“We’re alone now.” I point it out even though he knows. We’re alone and mostly will be until tomorrow when Baz has to take Mordelia on her daily walk and listen to her talk about how annoying the youngest three are when she can’t leave the house. Baz keeps saying that his siblings barely leave the house anyway. I’m beginning to think she sees him as more of an older cousin or cool uncle than she does a brother who she can irritate. I’m also not going to point out that’s it’s a little bit ironic that she annoys her older brother while complaining about her younger siblings annoying her. Baz sits further back on my thighs and looks at me.

“I suppose, it’s just... I can live with my family. Three out of four of my siblings are barely sentient, the fourth I actually get on with. Daphne is lovely— too lovely really, I don’t understand her.” He scrunches his nose up in this way that makes him pull a face that I really, really should not find ridiculously attractive, but I do. Everything he does is so gorgeous, even the horrible faces he pulls. Thinking about it, I probably like it because they’re the faces he’d always make back at Watford when we were just roommates who hated each other . “My father just doesn’t talk about uncomfortable subjects, which I can live with, and Fiona does nearly nothing but talk about those subjects, which I can also live with.”

I want to smooth the crease that’s left between his eyebrows after he’s finished. I lift my hands and tangle one in his hair already loosening hair, using the other to brush away the sharp expression on his face. “What about me?” We’ve spent basically seven and a half years sharing a room. I know I’m terrible. We’re sharing a room and a bed most nights even though there’s a room set up for me next door to Baz’s. I had been going to sleep in there but I’d wake up with Baz in the bed too so I’ve started just going to sleep in his room.

Baz sighs deeply and rests his forehead on mine gently, pressing our noses together a little bit at he does. Then his kisses me. Three times. On the lips. Holding my face in his hands. “You’re messy. You watch me eat my food. I put clothes out to wear the next day and then when I wake up you’re wearing them. You hog the duvet. You freak out about the wraiths. My whole family adores you. You don’t pick up your clothes off the bathroom floor. You use two in one shampoo and conditioner.” Every single word sounds condescending and exasperated. Each sentence is punctuated by a kiss to my lips. It’s weird, because even if the way he’s saying the words is normal, the affection they’re being wrapped in is not what would usually accompany what he’s saying, and— Baz is not usually one for bursts of affection. Not ones like this at least. And now it’s me sighing, but because he’s holding one of the gentle kisses longer than the rest.

“Right.” I mumble. I don’t know where he’s going with this. Maybe he isn’t going anywhere and he’s done talking and will now flop back onto my chest and pretend to sleep until Daphne comes to find us so we can take our food up to our room.

“I wouldn’t have it another way, Simon.” He mumbles, a few inches away from my face, but not close enough to feel the breath from his words. I want him to kiss me again. I want him to talk between kisses and make me laugh and make everything feel normal again because it’s been so, so long since things felt normal between us. They never really did and I just want them to. His hands are pushing through my curly hair that is too long, coming across a few knots which pull, but I ignore it because it’s nice. He’s nice. This is nice.

I kiss him, holding the back of his neck in my hands, thumbing gently across the base up to his hairline. Even after everything, hearing Baz say my first name is an insanely rare thing to happen. It always catches me off guard and I never know what the hell to do when he says it. So I break the kiss and say the first thing that comes into my head. “Tyrannus.” He stares at me. I stare back, trying to keep my face as straight and utterly unamused as his, when a hand hits me over the back of the head. “What the fuck?” I mutter, taking my hand from his hair and rubbing the back of my head gently.

“Merlin and Morgana, Snow. Let us have something nice.” He’s shuffled back away from me. Now he’s sat on my knees. They’re above the tiny gap between the sofa cushions and it’s not comfortable at all. It actually hurts a little bit.

“You called me Simon literally just now.” I try and change the angle my legs are at and Baz sits further back, at the opposite end of the sofa, staring across the room darkly. I curl my legs up to my chest, and look at him. Not everyone has self restraint. “Come back.” I say. Maybe I whined a little bit, but if Baz noticed that he didn’t acknowledge it, just pulled the sleeves of his jumper a little further over his hands. Actually I think it’s my jumper, because it’s an old Watford one which definitely never could have fit him properly. I’m pretty sure his family gets his uniform tailored to fit him perfectly.

“I am not going to come back you complete heathen. You called me Tyrannus.” Baz huffs the words at me, sneering, before also tucking his knees up under his chin and wrapping his arms around his legs and managing to hold the hands with my sleeves over to his face, covering the lower half of it.

I straighten one of my legs out and poke his thigh with my toe. He glares at me for a second but doesn’t do anything else. “You called me Simon.”

“If calling you Simon means that you call my Tyrannus then I am never even going to think of doing it again.” The words are muffled by the sleeves covering his nose and mouth. Baz turns his head to me again but this time doesn’t glare. He’s just... looking.

“I won’t call you it. I don’t even know why I did. Just come back.” I stretch my other leg out towards him and poke his ankle with this one. Baz rolls his eyes but squishes himself between the back of the sofa and my side without saying anything. He wraps his arms around my middle and puts his head is on my shoulder. A few minutes pass in quiet apart from the sound of an ABBA song (I think it’s the one Meryl Streep sings to Amanda Seyfried when she’s upset about her growing up. I don’t know. I’ve seen Mama Mia! once, and it was years ago). Then one of the twins starts screaming from somewhere far off, then the other follows suit.

Baz sighs heavily. I snort. One of his legs hooks over one of mine gently and he kicks my foot with his heel.

“What about Basilton?” I say into his hair.

Baz hums in response, but the sound doesn’t tell me an answer because it’s to neutral. “Just call me Baz.” I can feel his jaw move against my shoulder as he speaks. It might have been to conceal that he was smiling but I could still hear it in his voice.

“But is it better than Tyrannus?”

“Snow, I chose basilton over Tyrannus. What do you think?” This time when he spoke his words were slower and he yawned through the last few words. The drawling tone he tried to use didn’t really come through.

I tilt my head and press my lips to the top of Baz’s head and stay still apart from where my hand has come to rest on his upper arm; my thumb is brushing up and down on the sleeve of his jumper. His breathing has slowed slightly in the time since he spoke so I think he’s actually managed to fall asleep. That’s why I barely whisper my next words; he’s a light sleeper. “What about Basil?”

He presses closer to me, which I don’t think I expected. I definately didn’t expect Baz to be awake enough to reply. A few seconds pass and Baz ends up with his face pressed into my neck again, lying on top of me. “It’s nice, Simon.” I reposition my arms to be around his waist, feeling him fall asleep against me and, after mere minutes, I’m nodding off as well.

[tfw-no-tennis]

mtmte liveblog issue 35

ooooh baby functionist universe time

the cover with the neon ‘everything is fine’ sign is rlly good but also the pile of dead data stick bots makes me so sad omg noooo they're so cute leave them alone :( 

minimus and rewind...! its so cool seeing them interact

also I just love the crowd shot, and you can immediately see that there are a ton of data stick bots like rewind around - which isn't what we’re used to at all

also some good ole totalitarian govt stuff like the ‘you are our eyes’ sign (which, in retrospect, is fucking evil damnnnn)

also I'm so [eyezoom] on this functionist universe stuff bc like, this is basically the only time we ever see dominus be a character (rather than hearing abt him thru other characters), and even so he remains pretty ambiguous 

like, minimus clearly isn't thrilled that dominus didn't show up to see him at the space airport or w/e when they've been apart for two million years - and even tho we later see why he didn't show up, it still shows that there's some tension there

the amount of crowd shots in this issue is insane 

oooof, the fact that they sold luna 2 - and to the black box consortia, who we just heard about last chapter when they previously got into a space battle w/the galactic council and the djd

fu!minimus being part of the primal vanguard is interesting, I wanna see more about that. what was he doing w/them for 2 million years?

rewind just casually saying this completely fucked stuff, like that the govt ‘outlawed the intellectual class’ and ‘deported the knock-offs’ (which I'm assuming is cold constructed bots?)

I really like the sense we get thru minimus and rewind’s convo that all of this fucked up stuff has happened slowly enough that its become almost normal - like, they talk about it casually, even though its clear they don't necessarily agree with any of it 

plus the sense of ‘even if things get really bad ill be okay’ that both rewind and minimus seem to adhere to - rewind having been upgraded from being in the disposable class due to his connection w/dominus, and minimus saying ‘I like to think that obsolescence is something that happens to other people’ 

I love all the fucked up signage this issue. ‘take pride in being a means to an end,’ yikes

god and the fact that there isn't MORE data sticks, there's just LESS of other alt modes bc of how many alt modes the govt has wiped out completely...

oof, and continuing the whole ‘slow change’ thing - minimus saying that ‘the council never touches the astro class,’ and maybe that used to be true, but the govt will keep pushing that line, clearly...

and we get to see minimus’s alt mode! altho we the readers know that this isn't minimus’s true form...

‘amazing, the lengths some people will go to cross class boundaries,’ minimus says, as if he isn't doing exactly what rewinds describing, but even moreso as a loadbearer wearing an entire suit of armor

and then the casual public execution of the last lunabot...oof.

love the ‘cybertron. the present day’ text overlay...I was so confused about this when I first read it lmao. I figured it had to be some sort of au/quantum nonsense but STILL

back on the lost light, chromedome is going full kool-aid man on rewinds door

mannnnn I absolutely love the plotline of rewind 2 and chromedome 1...im so glad the story acknowledges that they ARE different, they did experience different stuff on their own lost lights, and rewind 2 being a quantum duplicate doesn't mean he had the same experiences as rewind 1...

and I love so much that chromedome just Doesn't Get It, bc of course he wouldn't - he’s too relieved that rewind is back to even consider that its not quite the same, that the rewind he was forced to blow up is still dead (which is a fucked up thought, so of course chromedome, the master of pushing the past away and moving right along, would want to avoid thinking about that in favor of continuing his relationship w/rewind 2)

it also makes a lot of sense that rewind, who records everything and puts a huge emphasis on history/the past, would be hyperaware of all the differences between him and rewind 1, and his chromedome and this chromedome

AUGHHHH and chromedome referring to an offer he made to rewind that was pretty clearly ‘if your memories of the djd slaughter are too much, I can remove them for you’ ooooof...I love these two so much, like...their absolute opposite approaches to trauma is fascinating

oooh mannnnn and then rewind starts ‘remembering’ stuff from the functionist universe...the plot thickens...!

I really like how one of the main ‘things’ in a lot of tf universes is energon/energy shortages, its interesting when the angle is kinda like, ‘energon is a finite resource and the methods to obtain more often involve destroying other planets,’ that's a pretty unique, alien problem for the tfs to have

it also makes sense that the functionists would form partially in response to that (perceived) shortage, and any sort of scarcity would push them further into their extremist views

I like how expressive the characters with visors are...its cute...

poor rewind has to go thru So Much

WHY can just anyone go into the morgue and touch the dead bodies. I mean I guess megatron being one of the captains explains why he’s in there, but that still shouldn't be allowed 

‘megatron mountain’ vhbjdkshfbjskfbhhk that's so fucking funnyyyyy I love rodimus....I quote that line a lot, especially when watching g1 lmao

the fact that swerve diluting his engex bc he’s a cheapskate saved everyone's s lives is amazing lmao

also like...damn brainstorm sure tried to murder Literally Everyone huh. like I guess the logic would be that if he succeeded in changing the past it wouldn't matter that they had died there cause the timeline wouldn't exist, but STILL. I guess that shows how confident brainstorm was in his plan

it makes so much sense somehow that rung doesn't drink. and we’ve seen firsthand why magnus doesn't lol

mannnn that panel of brainstorm shooting magnus with some wacky beam and causing the magnus armor to fall off in vehicle mode...Super Cool, just peak mad scientist vibes there

ok but if minimus switches to alt mode when ultra magnus does - as we see here, where minesweeper-minimus is inside big-ole-car-magnus - does that mean that inside the minesweeper is turbofox-minimus?? I want to seeeee

ghsdufjkbvksadfbhjs the panels of rodimus telling megatron that brainstorm time travelled are so fucking funny

and megatrons rant about how absolutely bonkers the lost light is....hvbhjdskfbasjh that's so funny oh my god. like yeah dude you're right and you gotta roll w/it sorry 

'on this ship, a minor breakdown is practically a rite of passage’ vbjdsnfbkasdfn its true and I love it

goddddddd it kills me how at this point in the story its So Obvious to everyone that brainstorm travelled back in time to do evil decepticon double agent stuff - and we as the reader can even buy that bc brainstorm has been so sketchy until now, and nothing he’s done contradicts what rodimus suggests - but it turns out in the end, it was all just for love. AUGHHHHHHHH its about the LOVE!!!! that's why I love this arc so much.

back in the functionist universe - god I cant believe rewind waited until Now to reveal to minimus that dominus has a tv face...like I get that that's a difficult topic to bring up in conversation but like, a little sooner might've been good hbvhjkdhnfbjaksl

oh man it hurts...rewind saying that they're in a ‘blind spot...’ oh man :(

rebel rewind, tho!! I love it sm

oh man and rewind never even broke the news about dominus to minimus oof. that's a tough reveal 

MANNN I really like the whole ‘flathead’ thing, its so awful and brutal. its such a logical extension of empurata, and as dominus says, once people get used to seeing empurata’d bots, it loses its punch...and the flatheads thing is even more invasive 

and writing wise, both empurata and the tv-heads are such good devices to show evil govt bs. I talk abt it a lot but I like all the ways jro gets creative with the ‘alien robots’ thing; a lot of these concepts wouldn't work at all with humans or other organic aliens

GODDD and dominus’s chilling speech being interrupted by the functionist propaganda....fucking horrifying I love it

also seeing dominus here is fascinating - clearly the council managed to pin him down enough to turn him into a flathead, but they never discovered his true alt mode...same with minimus, actually 

the cog is so fucking ominous. just floating there...

and the council is scary too! their names, and the fact that they all look the same...seems about right for an evil alien governing body

mannnnnnn and then the reveal that the data slug alt-modes will be ‘recalled’ next...rewind noooooo...and the one council guy even admitted that they still served some purpose in society, BUT that their ability to mass store data made them dangerous to the goverment...evil!!

meanwhile, rodimus doesn't know enough about science to be appropriately frightened about their timeline being wiped from existence, so he’s having a grand ole time

‘no one’s nodding, perceptor’ bvhjdbfasdfhbk their expressions....the lost light command crew are all clearly team ‘leave the science to the scientists’ lmao

I do love the paradox stuff, and brainstorm’s way around it all 

‘so I'm not allowed to take an interest in magic?’ hvbjhsdkfbjhkdf ily sm rodimus

but also like....rodimus suggests a parallel universe could've formed and perceptor is like ‘no way, that's not scientifically possible,’ as if brainstorm didn't basically defy science by time travelling at all...and more to the point, functionist cybertron DID get created, so rodimus was actually RIGHT this time

love that we’re already seeing perceptor’s admiration for brainstorm and his invention even here....sapiosexual mfer

a time travel chase....so beautiful...I love sci-fi so much

seriously time travel is one of my favorite tropes ever, this arc was inevitably gonna be my fav 

‘he’s going to kill orion pax.’ DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNN

meanwhile, on functionist cybertron...aw, is that bulkhead? great cameo! oh wait what's going on with all the data sticks...? uh oh!

the fact that their heads just EXPLODE....soooo fucked!! 

god and then the council picks up their dead bodies, for...probably something evil, I’d assume

god and then dominus got even more fucked....

‘there are certain words you cant afford to lose’ ;_; REWIND....GODDD IM SAD 

GOD GOD GOD the reveal that minimus has CAMERAS in his EYES GODDDDDDDDDDDD that's so FUCKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and rewinds reaction...ME TOO BITCH TF!!!!!!

all the ‘you are our eyes’ messages are even worse now huh!!

they did it while minimus was asleep...that's so fuckedddd

FUCKKKK and then rewind’s impassioned rebel speech, which I adore.....rewind ily sm...he’s such a good revolutionary, I wish we could've seen him leading an anti-funtionist rebellion....BUT THEN ‘oh? what about the back up?’ and its just like HHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH and then his head starts smoking and we see another billboard, but this time it says ‘WE are your eyes’ - is the implication that everyone is now a surveilling spy, whether they like it or now, so now it’s ‘we?’ like, we’re all in it together, spying on each other! ooooof

also. this is like the third time rewind has died on-screen in this series lmao (well, if you count the fake-out death where he thought he’d be cancelled out during slaughterhouse)...he ALMOST died in issue 12 too....poor rewind

‘the custom-made now’ is such a great title. jro always killin it w/the titles

plus ‘elegant chaos’ is such a cool arc name. fucking epic 

M A N NNNNNNNN THIS ISSUE WAS BALLER...this ARC is baller....I talked a lot hvbhdjkhfndsak lmao but there's so much to talk abt!!! I love the look into the functionist universe, I love seeing alternate versions of characters and settings so much, and I love time travel, so this issue is basically made for me

plus I fuckign love alien robot politics and seeing the absolute control the govt has over cybertronian society in the functionist universe is fascinating - plus from a storytelling standpoint, I think it was brilliant to show the ‘other side,’ aka what things would've been like without the war...which is something ill talk about later when its more directly addressed in the story but man do I enjoy that 

basically I love this arccccc I cant wait to read more hhhhhhh

[onuscientia]

Happy Birthday, Ignis.

● – || Today was his boyfriend’s birthday and Noctis was well prepared on what to get him. He loved him dearly and wanted to shower him with something special for his birthday. He also knew, very well, not to go overboard. So, he chose to do things that were small. He made one big present out of several smaller presents, since that seemed like a good way to do things. 

First and foremost, Noctis got Ignis a collection of books that he could read by the fire when he wanted to relax. Each one was of a different genre, written by Charles Dickens, so that way he would have options for his reading material. 

Next, a hand-made tea strainer  so that Ignis may strain his tea in a way that is just as elegant as the man himself was. 

Lastly, and probably the most important gift of them all, Noctis got Ignis a ring. Silver, with small diamonds around the band to add a little sparkle to Ignis’ life beyond the Prince himself. Arguably, this was the gift that Noctis was the most nervous to give to Ignis. It held the most weight, and was the one that could make or break Ignis’ entire birthday. The ring was a promise, more than just a piece of jewelry. it was a promise for the future, for their future. He loved him, dearly with everything in his heart, and could not imagine his life without him no matter what may come their way. Attached to the box was a letter in a porcelain white envelope that read: 

Dear Ignis, 

Ever since the day we met I knew that you were going to be something amazing in my life. When I was younger, I never knew just how amazing that something would be. 

Now that I’m older, I can’t imagine my life being anything like it is now without you being apart of it. I look forward to waking up and seeing you every morning, the subtle ways you smile at me from across the hallway when when you see me. The way you say my name… All of these things and more are things that I can’t imagine not being apart of my life. 

That being said, I never want to have to imagine my life without you ever again.  I want to spend the rest of my life with you, not just as Advisor and King but as husbands. I don’t care when that happens, I have my entire life to wait, but I would want nothing more than to be able to call you my love, my advisor, and my husband.

I love you, Ignis, and I hope that you will allow me the honour of spending the rest our lives together. 

Love, yours,

 Noctis. 

He wrapped all of these presents individually in emerald wrapping paper with silver ribbons as decoration. When he saw Ignis that morning, he carried his presents straight to him without a moment to waste. He placed a kiss on his cheek then held the presents out to him. 

“Happy birthday, my darling.”

                it  was  difficult  NOT  to  let  the  thought  of  his  birthday  almost  CONSUME  him  as  the  day  crept  closer,  especially  so  when  his  meticulous  organizational  skills  revolved  around  the  use  of  a  calendar.  ‘  BIRTHDAY  ‘  hadn’t  even  been  amongst  the  notes  written  in  the  designated  box  for  the  7th—  a  meeting  here,  a  few  errands  there,  but  he  knew,  amidst  all  that,  that  despite  his  distaste  for  SURPRISES  and  overly  grand  gestures,  his  loved  ones  would  call  attention  to  it  regardless,  treating  it  like  some  huge  DAY  OF  IMPORTANCE,  when  really,  ignis  could  argue  himself  to  the  grave  as  to  why  it  was  NOT.

           at  least  he  could  count  on  NOCTIS  not  to  turn  it  into  something  unnecessary.  ignis  didn’t  mind  a  small  gift  or  two,  fully  believing  one’s  earnings  were  better  spent  ELSEWHERE  as  opposed  to  his  birthday,  but  noctis  was  stubborn,  and,  as  such,  ignis  knew  not  to  complain  when  gifts  were  placed  afront  him.  humming  into  that  gentle  showing  of  affection,  ignis  offers  a  soft  “  thank  you,  love,  “  before  setting  his  work  aside  to  tend  to  the  presents.  at  noctis’  guidance,  he  opens  the  biggest  one  first,  chuckling  at  the  collection  of  books  as  he  tugged  them,  individually,  from  their  case.  “  i  was  not  aware  they’d  made  a  collection!  “  with  such  a  wide  range  of  genres,  at  that  ;;  it  would  be  hard  to  choose  where  to  start,  and  which  to  pluck  from  the  collection  next,  and  so  on.

                         which  made  the  next  gift  absolutely  perfect  for  the  plans  he  had  in  mind.  a  good  cup  of  tea,  book  in  hand,  and  the  warmth  of  a  crackling  fire  kissing  his  cheeks—  and,  astrals,  was  the  strainer  absolutely  GORGEOUS.  nothing  like  the  one  he  currently  used,  which  was  rather  basic  and,  admittedly,  growing  a  bit  rusty.  he  couldn’t  remember  the  last  time  he’d  sipped  his  tea  without  a  leaf  or  two…  or  ten…  trickling  in,  and  perhaps  noctis  had  observed  him  crinkling  his  nose  whenever  it  happened,  thus  encouraging  the  commissioning  of  this  beautiful  piece.

          what,  then,  would  the  third  and  final  gift  be?  a  coin  for  his  collection,  perhaps,  or  a  new  handkerchief?  the  box  was  notably  small,  which  lead  ignis  to  believe  it  couldn’t  have  been  anything  of  great  expense.  ah,  but  he’d  already  been  pleasantly  surprised  by  the  selection  thus  far,  noctis’  creativity  with  gifts,  apparently,  knowing  no  bounds,  and  ignis  even  DARED  get  a  little  excited  at  what  lay  within  this  tiny,  adorably  wrapped  package.

       —  but,  first,  the  letter.  it  was  no  different  than  reading  a  christmas  card  in  full  before  pocketing  the  money  that  slipped  out  ;;  one  could  not  be  RUDE  when  another  was  being  so  generous,  after  all.

        it’s  lengthy.  starts  off  innocent  enough.  cheeks  to  blossom  with  color  at  such  loving  words—  a  natural  reaction  when  noctis,  as  always,  was  being  so  cavity-inducingly  sweet.  it  starts  to  trail  OFF  from  their  standard  exchanges,  though,  and  ignis’  brow  is  quick  to  crease  in  CONFUSION  the  more  he  reads.  

        ‘  husbands.  ‘

                  this  was  starting  to  sound  like  a…

          “  n-noctis?  “  uttered  softly,  unsure,  he  can  tell  noctis  is  ANXIOUSLY  waiting  for  him  to  finish  opening  the  gift,  which  was  making  ignis  equally  as  nervous,  a  NUMBER  of  possibilities  running  through  his  head,  but  his  heart  daring  hope  for  one,  in  particular,  to  be  true.  expected,  then,  that  he  falls  to  silence  when  he  sees  the  RING,  eyes  widened  in  evident  SHOCK  at  the  weight  of  this  moment.  “  are  you…  noctis,  darling,  are  you…  i-is  this…?  are  you  asking  me  to  be  your… y-your  husband?  are  you  proposing  to  me?  “  the  way  he  stutters  and  stammers  over  his  words,  tears  to  line  the  length  of  his  cheeks  and  jawline,  he’s  BEYOND  emotional.  it’s  an  odd  look  for  one  who  is  normally  so  composed…  this  somewhat  stoic,  elegant  man,  crying  into  his  hand  as  he  shakily  cradled  this  beautiful  ring  in  the  palm  of  his  opposite.  gods  above,  how  embarrassing  ;;  he  can’t  even  get  himself  together  long  enough  to  offer  a  translatable  response  beyond  the  croak  of  a  “  yes,  “  but  he  finds  he  can  contain  himself  no  longer,  and  rises  from  his  desk  to  throw  himself  into  noctis’  arms. 

                      “  you  cannot  possibly  know  how  much  i’ve…  h-how  much  i’ve  wanted  this.  how  i’ve  dreamed  of  this  like  a  lovesick  fool,  and  convinced  myself  it  would  never  be.  “  a  choke  of  a  sob,  before  he  pulls  away,  quick  to  lean  back  in  in  search  of  a  kiss.  “  yes…  yes,  i’ll  marry  you.  yes,  a  hundred,  thousand,  million  times,  yes…  “

@avulsusprinceps​ ;;  Happy Birthday, Ignis! ♡

[shon-ha-lock]

Sweater Weather (harry/niall)

It’s that time of year! I had a blast participating in this year’s 1D Secret Santa. @silveredsound i hope you like my gift! 

It was a super cheap flight, in Niall's defense. A real deal. So what if the connection was in a tiny regional airport? In Wisconsin. Three days before Christmas. In the middle of a week of record low temperatures and snowstorms. 

Okay. In retrospect, maybe he should have expected something to go wrong. 

Niall's plane is the last to touch down in Chippewa Valley before it starts rerouting its incoming flights to airports not currently being blasted by the polar vortex. This is also, of course, when it grounds its outgoing flights “indefinitely”, leaving him and around one hundred other travelers stranded.

The whole airport has just two gates, with one shared, cramped waiting area. A line has snaked itself around that entire space, leading up to the customer service desk, where everyone is waiting for a chance to yell at a single beleaguered United Airlines employee about their flights being cancelled. 

Niall contemplates joining the line, but he’s more the type to wait until he can vent his anger by giving the lowest scores possible on a ‘how did we do?’ survey. And besides, just standing near the desk for a few minutes gives him all the information he needs to know, on repeat. 

“We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience this is causing our loyal customers,” is the current opener every time someone storms up to the little old lady working the desk. Her reedy voice is placating and increasingly nervous as she assures everyone that United is “currently working with Chippewa to arrange accommodations for anyone whose flight has been delayed by the storm.” 

This is comforting until Niall realizes that this means they don’t currently have hotel rooms set up for travelers with missed connections the way larger airports do. No shuttles, no vouchers, not a goddamn thing. 

They’re only twenty minutes outside of the little city of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, which probably has at least a few hotels with vacancies, but the odds of finding an Uber driver to brave the storm and get him there are slim to none. 

Niall’s not really the type to just stand around in a crisis and twiddle his thumbs, but if he’s being honest with himself, he hasn’t a goddamn clue what to do right now. He flies relatively frequently but he’s never actually had to deal with a flight being cancelled because of the weather, and he’s struck by a childish urge to call home and ask his mother for advice about what to do. 

At the moment, it’s looking like he might actually need to call her anyway, because she’s expecting to pick him up from Albany International in five hours, and that’s definitely not happening now. God, he hopes he’ll make it back to New York at some point within the next three days. He’s never spent a Christmas away from home in his twenty six years of life, and he doesn’t want to start now. 

He’s well on his way to an anxiety spiral when he notices that there’s one other passenger besides him not angrily crowding around the service desk. He looks to be around Niall’s age, and he’s pawing through a backpack with a resigned expression on his face. After a minute, Niall figures that he must be searching for warmer clothes to put on; the man’s short sleeved shirt is well-equipped to show off all the strange tattoos on his arms, but isn’t exactly appropriate for December in Wisconsin. 

Niall, by contrast, is dressed and packed for two weeks of winter in upstate New York. He looks down at his own backpack, aware that it’s stuffed with four different Aran sweaters, and makes a decision. It’s the season for doing good deeds, after all. Making a stranger a little less miserable surely counts. 

“Hey there,” Niall says as he walks over to the man, who’s given up looking through his luggage and is now sitting forlornly on one of the waiting area’s cheap plastic benches. He looks up, and Niall’s breath -- well, it honest to God catches in his throat. This guy must be some kind of model, because he’s got just about the most gorgeous face Niall’s ever seen. Green eyes, red lips, the works. 

“Hi?” the guy ventures after a few seconds of Niall staring down at him like a lunatic. 

Niall can feel himself go red as he hurriedly unzips his backpack, feeling around until he grabs a fistful of wool.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a sweater at random and basically throwing it at the guy’s head. 

“You looked cold, so.” He shrugs. He watches this ridiculously good-looking stranger hold out the sweater to examine it, smiling widely for a second before his expression shifts to concern. 

“Oh, this is hand-knit, isn’t it? I couldn’t possibly take this,” he says, trying to hand it back to Niall, who takes a step backwards and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Really, I insist,” he says. “Seriously, you’d be doing me a favor. My grandma still thinks we live in Ireland and makes one for me every year; I’m drowning in the things.” This seems to make the guy only more determined to hand it back to him, but Niall perseveres. 

“I’d feel guilty just getting rid of them, but if I tell her I passed one on to a chilly traveler I’ll be grandson of the year, so.” 

Niall narrowly avoids pumping a fist in the air in victory when this makes the guy giggle, bite his lip, and finally, reluctantly pull the sweater on over his t-shirt. It’s a sea green that matches his eyes perfectly, which is great, because what Niall really needed was to be even more distracted by a random person’s good looks. 

“I can’t thank you enough,” he says once it’s on, his chin-length hair now attractively rumpled. “I was worried I was going to freeze solid the second I went outside.”

He holds out a hand; Niall takes it. Soft palms, manicured and painted fingernails -- this guy might really be a fashion model. 

“I’m Harry,” he says. He smiles wide enough when he says it that his cheeks dimple. Niall’s heart is in some serious trouble now. 

“I’m Niall,” he replies, letting go of Harry’s hand a second later than is probably appropriate. 

He’s not sure how, but he wants to keep the conversation going somehow, just so he has an excuse to look at Harry’s face for a little longer. Before he can come up with something, an ancient intercom crackles to life and makes them both look around.

“Attention, travelers. In two hours, the storm is expected to dissipate enough to start offering shuttles into Eau Claire. Chippewa will be providing vouchers for the following lodgings.” 

The announcer rattles off a list of local hotels before repeating the entire message over again. This announcement seems to renew the stranded travelers’ agitation, and they start swarming the service desks with complaints about the wait. Harry and Niall both stay where they are, clearly on the same page about not bullying the elderly. Harry doesn’t seem any happier than the people yelling, though.

“I didn’t manage to sleep on the plane because I was so nervous about the weather and the turbulence,” he confesses to Niall. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out before that shuttle actually gets here.” 

“Where are you coming from?” Niall asks. They’re making small talk! Success! 

“Well, I started out in Italy thirteen hours ago,” Harry says ruefully. “Then I had a connecting flight in Boston, and from there, I should have gone all the way out to LA, which is where I’m spending Christmas. But I had to book last minute, and the only flights left had an extra connection. So I took a chance on this one, and of course now I’m stuck here.” He pouts as he says it, and it should make him look immature but instead he just looks like he’s posing artfully for Covergirl or something. 

“So we’re heading in opposite directions,” Niall says. “I’m coming from LA, and I’m on my way to New York.” 

Harry’s eyes light up at this.

“Oh my god, do you live in NYC? I love spending time there, it’s one of my favorite cities in the world.”

Niall sighs and shakes his head in mock-disappointment. 

“Everyone loves NYC so much but they always forget about the actual capital of New York.”

When Harry just stares at him blankly, Niall relents and laughs out, “I’m from Albany. My whole family immigrated there from Ireland when I was six months old." 

Niall feels a bit awkward at first, talking about his life with someone he just met, but he quickly learns that Harry is the type of old soul who loves to make conversation with strangers. And by the time the shuttles start actually arriving he can't say that the two of them are strangers anymore. 

He learns that Harry's lived in LA his whole life, and so traveling anywhere that's cold knocks him off his feet. Niall's only lived in California since he started attending UCLA (at first as an undergrad and now for post-graduate work) but it turns out he and Harry have several mutual acquaintances, which delights Harry to no end, and he seems more interested in Niall's classes last semester than Niall was, asking questions about what he learned and whether the professors were cool or boring. 

He's in the middle of a rant about early morning lectures when the intercom starts announcing that they'll be able to start shuttling people into the city soon. Which of course means that the two of them are going to have to go their separate ways. 

Harry starts fussing with his luggage again, seeming almost shy now, and thanks Niall again for the sweater.

Niall scrambles for something else to say to forestall a goodbye. 

“How did you know it was hand-knit?” is the only question he comes up with, but it's effective.  

"Oh!" Harry exclaims, going all smiley again. 

"The pattern was really detailed, and I could see how tight the stitches were. Didn't seem likely that a machine made it," he says. 

"Wow, you've got a real eye. Do you work in fashion or something?" Niall asks, wondering if his initial impression was right after all. 

"Or something," Harry says, seeming embarrassed for some reason. "I um, do modelling work sometimes. Shoots for Gucci, mainly, but other brands too. It's why I was in Italy, actually." 

Holy shit. There’s an actual Gucci model wearing one of his grandma’s sweaters right now. What a thought. His mom is going to flip when he finally gets to New York and tells her all about this. 

"That's really cool," Niall tells him, scrambling to think of a segue into asking for his number that doesn't come off like he's just trying to hook up with a model.

As luck would have it, Harry provides one for him - by asking for his grandmother’s phone number.

“Or even just her mailing address,” Harry rushes on when Niall bursts out laughing. 

“I’d like to personally thank her for making such a pretty sweater that’s doing such a good job of keeping me warm.”

“Well, I’m going to be seeing her for Christmas in a few days, if the weather calms down. You could call me and I could just hand my phone over to her.” 

It’s not particularly subtle, but luckily Harry doesn’t call him out on it. In fact, his face goes a bit sly, and he looks Niall up and down for a moment.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Harry says, and then whips out an honest-to-god gel pen from nowhere to physically write his phone number on Niall’s hand. 

“Text me when you get a chance, and we’ll have each other’s numbers that way,” he says cheerily. 

A few minutes later, they go their separate ways - Niall with Harry’s phone number written in bright green ink on the back of his hand, and Harry with a signature Grandma Horan sweater to keep him warm. 

As he passes the service area, Niall cheerfully plucks a survey card from the desk. Seems like he’s going to give United a glowing review after all. 

[bluerosesburnblue]

Nothing upsets me more than a legitimately good story being ruined by “extra” content. I’ve already complained at length about Pokemon Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon’s story changes over the original games so now it’s The World Ends With You: Final Remix’s “A New Day’s” turn because CHRIST

I’m writing this as I come across points while watching a playthrough, so:

God, Coco is the single most insufferable being. “totez hilar” just dated this content so baaaad, and I’d even say it was dated language when Final Remix came out. No other character abuses modern slang as their entire character. Like, slang is used but not as a substitute for personality. Beat speaks in a very casual, urban style but it never ends up being detrimental to his character as a bit of a punk with a “perfect little sister” that he wasn’t as naturally smart as, so he just gave up on trying and ended up being a bit of an aggressive slacker. Heck, he tones it down a bit for emotional moments, too. Coco, though, comes across like her ultra-modern “cutesy” text message slang is supposed to be her personality, and even when it’s revealed that she’s the villain of the episode you just can’t take her seriously through the “like, ohmigosh, I can’t believe you’re ruining my plaaaaaans” bullshit. What does she have going for her if you rewrite all of her lines without that speaking style? She’s just a generic manipulative brat

Frankly I also just disagree with the entire premise of A New Day and the plot threads it sets up for a potential sequel, i.e. “having Neku and Beat run through a game again as a trap to get Neku into yet another game in a possible sequel.” TWEWY is a complete experience and had been for at least a decade. Literally every character had a complete arc. The worldbuilding was rich enough that they had more than enough to come up with a sequel set in the same world, but in an entirely different town with an entirely new cast and, heck, even entirely new rules for the Game that would’ve expanded upon the world of the games without taking away from the characters whose time in the Underground was already done

But, noooooooo, we’ve gotta bring Neku back. Can’t have a game without Neku they literally SAY THAT (”The Game, like, literally can’t go on without Neku.”). And let’s bring Minamimoto back, too, as a good guy! The fans loved him! This doesn’t come across as pandering at all!

Just... you have the girl with the red headphones designed! Make the sequel set in Shinjuku with her as the main character! (Hell, I don’t think I would have even minded Minamimoto coming back for that because there was enough leeway in the base TWEWY for him to have survived his encounter with Josh, just leave Neku out of it). This is the most infuriating part because it actually takes away from Neku’s story. The entire GAME was a test of character to see if even the worst, most closed off person could learn empathy and respect and Neku DID. And in return, that sparked a change in Josh. His story is done. Coco using Neku, though, has nothing to do with him as a character and everything to do with him being the face of the game and it shows

And why the hell is Neku so trusting of Coco anyway? I get that he opened up over the course of TWEWY, that was kind of the point. But you come back to life, everything’s fine, and then suddenly you’re in a death game again and so is one of your best friends, like, he should be WAY more concerned and suspicious. But one little Reaper gives him the sad eyes and he just caves instantly like “fine, come along.” Even when Neku grew to like some of the Reapers, like Uzuki and Kariya, it was still far more of a rival-like respect. He knew damn well that it was their job to see him gone and while he accepted their help when they gave it and helped them when their lives were in danger (possibly, up to player choice), they weren’t buddy-buddy with each other, knowing that as soon as the immediate danger to them had passed they’d be on opposite sides again. And these are the Reapers he’s closest to, even at the end of the game. And then all of a sudden Coco goes “but I’m a wittle wost baby weaper” and Neku’s response is, “well, shit, welcome to the team.” WHAT

I hate using the term “Mary Sue” but Coco is absolutely a Mary Sue in its original meaning. The plot bends over backwards to accommodate her at the expense of the main characters’ personalities or reason, all while giving her a clothing style incongruous with everyone else’s meant to stand out and make her look special and not having her face any repercussions for her actions (so far which is, again, another issue with the very premise of A New Day since that’s exactly how things will end off if TWEWY doesn’t get a sequel, the possibility of which is not a guarantee AT ALL)

Shiki and Rhyme start saying blatantly false things about themselves and handwaving it away with “ohhh, that must have been our new Entry Fee! Just the exact same ones as the first time again!” and only BEAT is suspicious and NEITHER OF THEM are suspicious of Coco, the only non-generic Reaper they’ve met so far. Christ, I appreciate Beat being attentive with matters of his sister because that’s in-character but NEKU was always the more paranoid AND observant one yet all he thinks about is “gee, I’m sure having weird visions today, huh?”

And then Coco starts BLATANTLY gaslighting them about Kariya and Uzuki’s personalities and they’re STILL not suspicious of her like ughhhhhhhhhhh. Nekuuuuuuu you LIVED THROUGH JOSH WEEK 2, you have BEEN IN A SITUATION where the mastermind partnered up with you to divert your suspicion and keep an eye on you how are you less suspicious of this brat than Beat is???

And why are none of the characters bringing up the fact that you have to be DEAD to be in the Game??? You all spent three weeks of hell to claw your way back to life, how are you not more upset about what seems like you all dying again, basically immediately after you just got brought back? And I know the Shiki and Rhyme in A New Day are illusions, but Neku and Beat AREN’T. Nobody even comments on the implication that they’re dead again and what that means!

I can’t believe they made new expressions for the fake Josh’s changed personality but still refuse to make anything for Shiki’s true appearance

Hell, there’s enough lore with Josh that you could make an entire prequel about him becoming the Composer instead of this mess and, you know, EXPAND on someone’s character and what led to him being so disillusioned with Shibuya as the Composer instead of employing the Happy Ending Rewrite on Neku and then gutting his personality to make Coco the focus. I’d LOVE a Josh prequel with competent writing. Kingdom Hearts made the Xehanort prequel and hooked me in a single chapter with expanded worldbuilding and interesting ties with Xehanort’s character to friends that humanize him, do the same for Yoshiya “Joshua” Kiryu!

Pfffffff hire me and let me make the dream TWEWY trilogy: Joshua prequel > TWEWY sans A New Day > sequel set in Shinjuku starring Red Headphones Girl with Occasional Josh and Hanekoma Interaction

It is so unnecessarily cruel to make Beat relive Rhyme’s erasure and subject Neku to believing that Shiki was erased as well, and yet they do NOTHING with it except have it be cheap tension for five minutes. The characters basically say “wow, I’m so sad!” and then IMMEDIATELY move on to “OMG is Neku seeing the fuuuuuture?” Your LITTLE SISTER and FIRST REAL FRIEND IN YEARS just seemingly died permanently! When Rhyme was erased the first time it took Neku one and a half in-game days to even talk about it because he was so upset, and from then on he was focused on avenging her/bringing her back. Shiki was his entry fee in Week 2 and that made him hyper paranoid the whole time! WHY ARE WE JUST GLOSSING OVER THIS especially since they made SUCH a big deal about how they just finally started believing that the fakes were real (after a whole TWO conversations)

And then at the end they say that they’re inside Coco’s Noise that is SO BIG that it has an ALTERNATE DIMENSION INSIDE IT and Hanekoma’s like “I’ve never met a Reaper POWERFUL enough to make a Noise like this. Wow, Coco, you’re so POWERFUL that even I, an Angel, am impressed!” This. Coming from the guy who specifically chose Minamimoto as his failsafe to kill the Composer should the Game go wrong because a Taboo Minamimoto, heavily refined using forbidden methods, would be strong enough to defeat THE COMPOSER. And he’s now going on about how Coco’s the strongest Reaper ever, basically admitting that she’s probably stronger than the Composer of Shibuya. SURE. BECAUSE COCO WASN’T BAD ENOUGH ALREADY SHE HAS TO BE THE STRONGEST REAPER EVER, TOO

And then it just ends with Josh and Hanekoma exposition dumping about how Shinjuku got erased as Noise entered the RG (WHAT?), Neku’s visions were probably caused by the red headphones girl who’s super special (who???), and Coco’s just so special powerful (why...), but it’s not their problem so fuck it. Oh, and also Josh doesn’t care about Neku anymore, despite that being the whole point of TWEWY. Yeah, the guy who flew off all upset when Hanekoma asked him if he wanted to hang out with his friends at the end of the game. Uh huh. Even if he’s lying, why even put that THERE instead of saving it for the sequel?

And then Coco just... revives Minamimoto. Even though, oh, right, the Taboo Refinery stuff was so precise that the only reason Minamimoto came back the first time was because Hanekoma, THE PRODUCER AND AN ANGEL, set it up for him. But I guess Coco’s just soooooo super powerful and knows FORBIDDEN HIGHER PLANE KNOWLEDGE and can just do whateeeeeever she wants. Not like Hanekoma was so paranoid about someone finding out what he did for Minamimoto that he went into hiding, certain that he’d be reported to the higher Angels and destroyed

A New Day is so painfully shallow from a writing experience. It’s a poor continuation off of the solid, complete TWEWY story experience that just doesn’t have a handle on Neku’s character, turning him into this bland vision machine with no emotional connection to anyone. The way that it expands the worldbuilding with “Inversion” does one thing that I HATE, which is taking an emotion-and-character driven story and turning it into a generic “end of the world” scenario, “raising the stakes” in a way that divorces it from what made it memorable in the first place. If Kitaniji directly effecting the RG during the main Game’s plot was the point where he crossed the line in-universe, then that loses its special nature and impact if you then go “oh, btw, Noise can destroy the RG city if you let them”

And then there’s the absolute black hole of a character that is Coco Atarashi. She wasn’t designed to fit into the world of the game, she was designed to stand out. On its own that’s not a bad thing, especially given the themes of the game that revolve around owning your true self and baring it to the world, but then you combine it with no personality beyond being a manipulative brat obsessed with the events of TWEWY, extremely lazy text message slang dressing up her dialogue to make it stand out, the way that Neku and Beat’s personalities change to accommodate her presence just to shoehorn her in and then have a cheap “omg she was bad” twist, and then dumping powers on par with Josh and Hanekoma on her and there is NO saving her character

The only good part of A New Day is “Wake Up.” And even then, there’s better TWEWY songs, I just like the vaguely Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance vibes it has in parts

[recurring-polynya]

Bollywood Review Time!

Today, I am going to talk about Om Shanty Om, a very good movie that was Not For Me.

Let me back up. People recommend stuff to me a lot and I try to watch it and talk about it, and I always feel bad when I don’t like it. This one was recommended to me by my friend @serene-faerie​ I want to make it very clear that you, reader, may like this film very much! It was a strange perfect storm of Things I Don’t Care For, and I actually rather enjoyed the experience of picking apart what I didn’t like about from what I did, because honestly, I am always interested in the ways stories are told and what stories say about themselves.

Cut for spoilers and also length

First off the bat-- this is not a film for the Bollywood beginner. It’s sort of a meta-narrative, with a ton of cameos from famous stars and jokes about Bollywood tropes and directors and such. There’s a ten-minute dance number in the middle that’s just famous people showing up to get down and everybody cheers every time someone new rolls in. I have only actually seen a handful of Bollywood films, mostly made after this one (it was made in 2007), and I could tell that there were a ton of gags and references that flew over my head. I got the sense, both from watching it, and from reading reviews, that this was all very well done and funny, I just didn’t have the proper frame of reference to appreciate it.

The main character, Om, is played by Shah Rukh Khan, an incredibly famous Bollywood star whom I had never heard of before watching this film. In the beginning, Om is a somewhat-bumbling movie extra, dreaming of stardom, flipping his hair, and falling in love with a beautiful starlet on a billboard. I… was not taken in by his charms. I feel like I really missed out by not knowing who Shah Rukh Khan was ahead of time. That was sort of an interesting thought to me-- that a famous actor brings the good will of all his previous roles to a movie with him, and that it was very interesting to me to watch a film stripped of that context. I was literally shocked when halfway through the film, he rips off his shirt and had killer abs, I was absolutely not expecting it.

The deal of the movie is that, through a series of coincidences, Om meets Shanti, the actress of his dreams (from the billboard). She is played by Deepika Padukone, who I fell for immediately. She is gorgeous and had a ton of charisma. This movie seems like it’s going to be a love story, but it really isn’t. Shanti is charmed by Om’s sweetness, but she’s already in a doomed secret marriage with a scumbag director, Mukesh, who ends up murdering her when she wants him to publicly acknowledge her, which is kinda time sensitive, because she is pregnant. Mukesh had planned to have her star in a lavish movie spectacle called Om Shanti Om, but when she forces his hand, he burns the set down with her locked inside. Om witnesses all this; he tries to save her and dies in the process.

Om happens to die in the same hospital where a famous director’s child is being born, and he is reincarnated as the baby, and grows up to have the life he always wanted-- that of a Bollywood superstar. His name is still Om, but his nickname is O.K., so I am going to call him that to distinguish between 1977 Om and 2007 Om. He meets Mukesh again who is now a super-successful Hollywood producer. O.K. gets all the memories of his past life back, and decides to Get Revenge by proposing to do a remake of Om Shanti Om. He finds a wanna-be actress, Sandy, who looks exactly like Shanti, and has her haunt the set in order to make Mukesh think he is going crazy (and maybe also confess? It’s not a terribly clear-cut plan). You might think that Sandy is the reincarnation of Shanti, but Shanti’s ghost shows up in the grand finale of the film, so I guess she wasn’t?? You also might expect O.K. and Sandy to have some romantic feelings, but they really don’t, and in fact, O.K. is actually pretty mean to Sandy, even though she is extremely sweet and I don’t see how anyone could possibly be mean to her.

The movie is lush. The costumes are elaborate, the sets are lavish, the dance numbers are many and long. There is not a single scene without an off-screen fan to dramatically tousle the actors’ hair. I actually rather liked the last act of the movie where they were gaslighting Mukesh and it was over-the-top, scenery-chewing, Hamlet--play-with-in-a-play madness. A chandelier falls on someone. A lot of the end doesn’t even make a lot of sense or exist in any sort of linear time, cutting between the film-within-a-film and dance numbers and what’s “really happening” and I really had no problem with any of this. I actually really liked the amount of meta that was happening and the breakdown of boundaries, and I found the end to be reasonably satisfying.

So what didn’t I like about it?

The entire film relies on you being charmed by Om and I did not care for him. We all have this set of trope personality types that we enjoy and fall for, and “young person who dreams of making it big on the stage/screen” is a huge swipe left for me. Give me a stolid second-in-command who has been stationed at an ice wall for 30 years to protect his homeland. A incredibly tired dude muttering “fuck” as he wades into a swamp to fight a bog zombie, because who else is gonna? My dude turn-ons include duty and self-sacrifice and really good posture. I couldn’t watch Naruto because everyone spouted off about “their dreams” too much, and I thought Om should have cut his losses and gotten a real job. I am who I am.

There’s a weird fine line between “meta,” that is, stories about storytelling and presentation and media, and movies about being in love with making movies. I like the former a lot and I do not care for the latter one bit. I did stage crew for a high school production of 42nd Street and I have a very distinct memory of thinking “this is a play about putting on a play. Why on earth would anyone who is not an actor want to watch this?” I also hate books where the main character is a writer (yes, Stephen King, this is a call-out). I also hate biopics about musicians and actors. I honestly do not care about the craft, and the “magic of cinema” has never been a thing I have found remotely compelling. 

What I love about reincarnation storylines is the period where the characters recognize the feelings and memories that are tied to their previous lives-- where they see someone and can feel their old emotions for this person, but without knowing why. This is where I live. I eat this with a spoon. I want this to prolong the emotional burn, because the characters don't know what are their own feelings and what comes from their past lives, and that there are conflicts that must be resolved for both lifetimes. Alternatively, you can also use a reincarnation storyline to skip the emotional burn entirely, by just having the character “get all their memories back in one fell swoop.” This is… the opposite of what I want. This is what Om Shanty Om does. I felt deeply cheated.

Relatedly, the entire theme of the movie was "When you want something badly, the whole universe conspires to give to you", a sentiment I wholeheartedly disagree with. I love stories about the conflict between agency and destiny, I think this is a really meaty subject, but once again, the movie used it as an excuse to let the characters sit back and do nothing and have a solution to their problems drop into their laps. I am sure you could make an argument for the charm of this viewpoint, but it is not for me.

I like dance numbers all right, but they are not why I watch Bollywood films. This movie is over two hours long and a lot of it was dance numbers. I was very tired of dance numbers by the end. That being said, the titular song was a bop and I had it stuck in my head for days. “Disco of Distress” was my second favorite.

I do not really feel a lot of nostalgia for the late 1970s, which is when the first half of the film takes place. If noisy patterns and kitsch and big winks and goofy hair is your period aesthetic, you will enjoy this part a lot!

Here’s what I did like!

Sunglasses. There were so many good sunnies in this film. So many. A parade of excellent shades.

Deepika Padukone. She is so adorable, for one, and she charmed me in every way that Shah Rukh Khan did not. I loved her both as the melancholy starlet Shanti and the doofy, gum-chewing Sandy, and also the Angry Revenge Ghost at the end. I would say this movie is 75% Om and 25% Shanti, and I would have liked it a lot better if it were the other way around. Sandy had basically no agency whatsoever; the second half of the plot was basically about O.K. getting revenge on Mukush... mostly for himself? I liked that the first half of the movie didn’t make Shanti fall in love with the puppy-like Om just because he was devoted to her, but it would have been a nice reversal if the jaded O.K. had softened toward Sandy more in the second act, and that there had been a bit of a love story to temper the revenge plot.

The idea of the plot. The plot described in words is very cool to me, and there was a period of about 3 minutes in the film when O.K. recognizes Om’s mother when I got real excited about where this was going, and then I realized it wasn’t going where I wanted and was sad again. I think I might have liked it better if the movie started out with O.K. and revealed Om’s story slowly, through flashback, but nothing about this movie catered to my narrative aesthetic, so I eventually gave up with ways of trying to fix it.

Anyway, as I said, I can definitely see how someone could love this movie! If you are a big Bollywood buff and you love dance numbers and silliness and Shah Rukh Khan, I would recommend it in a second! It was strangely almost tailor-made to hit some of my pet peeves, and I was mad because I wanted to like it more than I did.

That’s my review! @serene-faerie​ I hope you still love me even though I didn’t like your movie. I am always trying to expand my movie knowledge and I learned a lot watching this one, and I don’t regret watching it, even though it wasn’t my fave.

[jarienn972]

Weathering the Storm - Part One

I dreamed up the crazy idea for this story a couple of weeks ago (yes, this was actually a dream) and I finally found some motivation to start writing it.  The basic premise is that it’s a pretty lousy day in Storybrooke.  A severe thunderstorm is looming, vandals are on the loose and Killian makes a ill-fated error while trying to be a Good Samaritan that leaves him relying on an unlikely ally for his very survival.

I haven’t written a multi-chapter whump story in a while so @hookaroo, this one is right up your alley.  Lots of whumpy fun (and a little comedy thrown in too).  And I’m sorry @killian-whump if I’m overloading your to read lists this month.

You can also find this on AO3 and FF.net

Peering through the windshield at the darkening horizon, Killian's brow furrowed. He was still getting accustomed to driving the Sheriff's vehicle himself and while it wasn't entirely unlike manning the helm of the Jolly Roger, he'd learned that the automobile responded much faster to course adjustments. He was becoming increasingly comfortable driving on dry roads, but he didn't yet have much experience driving on rain-slickened asphalt so he was hoping that the forecast storm would hold off for a tad longer.

With Emma occupied assisting Henry locate the proper attire for some sort of ball called homecoming, Killian had volunteered to take this morning's call on his own. It was a case that seemed innocuous enough on the surface - the now magic-less former Wicked Witch had phoned in a complaint to the station after someone threw a brick through her living room window. Neither she nor her child had been harmed but she was livid and wanted the vandal caught. She was quite vocal that she preferred Emma be the one to respond but after being advised that Emma wasn't available - and several minutes of unsuccessful argument, she resigned to the fact that it would be Killian coming to investigate. There had been two similar attacks in town and he had a pretty good idea who was responsible already but more evidence was always welcome.

So now he found himself driving to the outskirts of town, on his way to Zelena's farmhouse with a thunderstorm looming. At least the weather was keeping the traffic light as most in town chose to stay off of the highway with a severe storm threatening. But it was the very lack of cars on the road that made the vehicle pulled off to the berm stand out so starkly. It wasn't a vehicle he recognized, much newer and sleeker than the majority of the cars in Storybrooke, although he had seen similar ones when Emma had taken him on visits to nearby cities.

He could tell that there was a driver still seated behind the steering wheel and at quick glance, nothing appeared to be amiss. It was possible that the vehicle had broken down, as he'd learned they were prone to do. So, as Deputy Sheriff of this town, the neighborly thing to do was to see if the motorist was in need of assistance. He slowed down after passing the parked car which was facing opposite of his direction, flipped on the lights and made a slightly awkward three point turn in the middle of the road. (There were still a few maneuvers that weren't particularly easy for a man with a hook for a hand.)

He eased his vehicle to the side of the road, stopping a few feet behind the dusty black sedan that displayed New Hampshire license plates. Before exiting the vehicle, he made sure that his badge was properly displayed, clipped to the chest pocket of his hip length leather coat. He also double checked that the little camera mounted on the vehicle's dashboard was recording just as Emma had insisted. She'd had the device installed so that they would have video of every traffic stop, saying that it was for everyone's protection although Killian had scoffed at it. Wasn't like it would be hard to manipulate it with a little magic, but if Emma wanted the camera used, he'd use the bloody camera.

He turned off the cruiser's engine and stepped out into the road, approaching the vehicle cautiously, but trying not to project a threatening air. He was merely offering aid if needed and noted that the driver was already rolling down the window as he neared.

"'Afternoon, mate," Killian greeted the motorist with a welcoming smile. "I'm Deputy Jones with the Storybrooke Sheriff's Department. I noticed you pulled over here and I was wondering if I could be of any assistance?"

The dark haired driver raised his chin to glance up at Killian, or at least Killian thought the man was looking at him. It was impossible to be certain as he couldn't see the driver's eyes behind his mirrored sunglasses, a strange accessory to be wearing in such overcast weather.

"All's good, Deputy," the man replied. "Just had to pull over to try to make a call but it seems cell phone service kinda sucks around here."

"So I've been told," Killian chuckled. "You'll likely get a better signal about three miles or so ahead, on the other side of the county line."

"That's good to know. Thanks." It was a valid reason to be parked here and the driver seemed courteous enough but Killian's keen intuition sensed something was off. His gaze drifted unconsciously past the driver where he caught a glimpse of a map of Maine with a meandering route plotted in yellow highlights, one that avoided all major highways and towns. Something was telling him that this person wasn't the scenic backroads type.

"Well, I'll not waste any more of your time. Enjoy your drive, mate." Killian gave a little nod to the driver as he made a mental note to run the license plate number with the state police as soon as he returned to the cruiser, chastising himself for not doing that in the first place. He barely had time to take a single step back from the sedan before he found himself staring at the muzzle of a pistol trained on him through the car window. The driver had brandished it so rapidly that Killian had no time to draw his own weapon.

He heard the gun go off and time seemed to slow. The bullet struck his right side, entering somewhere around the bottom of his rib cage. The pain didn't hit him immediately as he staggered back a few steps before his legs gave out beneath him and he dropped to the asphalt. He watched the driver lean out of the window and fire a second shot at the cruiser, hitting the front tire and flattening it. By now, a searing heat was spreading through his torso but as he lay there in the middle of the empty highway, Killian noticed that there was a pair of feet visible beneath the car and his ears picked up a second voice shouting.

"What the hell did you do that for?" the second, deeper voice demanded. "We weren't supposed to draw attention!"

"You were the one who had to take a piss," the driver's voice responded defensively as a car door squeaked open and then slammed closed seconds later. "I told you we shouldn't have stopped."

"You didn't have to shoot a cop!"

"He saw the map...What if he ran the plate?"

That was the last of the conversation that Killian could make out as the sedan's engine roared to life and the vehicle sped away, kicking up a cloud of dust and gravel in its wake.

Clutching his wounded flank, Killian lay unmoving in the road for a few minutes but to him, it felt like hours had passed. Get moving, Jones his head urged but his body was less willing to comply. He practically dragged himself back to the cruiser, using the front bumper to support himself as he managed to raise up to his knees. Beneath his layers of leather, he could already feel the sticky dampness of blood, warm against his skin. He knew he should get to the radio. He should call for help, but who would answer? There was no one at the station to hear his plea and he didn't know if any other law enforcement would get the transmission as Storybrooke wasn't exactly on any regular patrol route.

Maybe he could call Emma? If he could get a signal on that infernal device, maybe she could get to him? She could teleport. He couldn't.

Trying to ignore the increasing pain, he pulled his hand away from the wound, patting his coat pocket for his phone, hoping it was still inside. As he'd become more adept with the technology, Emma had upgraded his phone to a fancier version she'd felt would be simpler to operate one-handed. The new device had proven easier to access features other than what he still referred to as the Emma button, but he was about to rue the change. The new device was covered in a shiny sheet of glass that he'd initially questioned the durability of but he was assured this was typical of newer devices. As he slipped his bloodstained hand into the pocket, his fingertips came in contact with his phone - and the razor sharp edges of the shattered glass screen.

He drew it from his pocket carefully and confirmed the damage. He must have landed on it when he'd fallen. He tried in vain to press the power button, hoping the device would light up but it barely flickered in his hand, leading Killian to quickly realize the dire predicament he was in. He was on his own out here in the middle of nowhere and he needed to think of a plan right now or he'd bleed to death before anyone was likely to find him. His closest option to get assistance was to head to Zelena's farmhouse which was approximately another half a mile up the road. With a flat tire, he couldn't easily drive there and he doubted that he had the strength or the dexterity to change it. Could he feasibly make his way to the witch's home on foot?

Clenching his jaw tightly, he swung his hook up onto the hood of the cruiser, anchoring it into the narrow gap above the headlight. He grimaced and cried out in agony as he pulled himself upright. He rested against the vehicle for a few moments, willing himself to move. He could make it a half a mile. He had to make it, he kept telling himself as he pushed away from the car, leaving behind a sizable smear of crimson on the vehicle's white paint.

**********

Thankful that she'd located the bright blue tarp in the decrepit barn behind the house, Zelena was trying hard to work while ignoring the pleas of her cranky toddler. She currently stood atop a sturdy chair attempting to nail that plastic sheet over the shattered living room window. It was a hasty fix that wouldn't last long, and it had her once again lamenting her lack of magical powers. She had hoped to convince Jones to assist with the temporary repairs by covering the window with a few boards salvaged from the barn - after he finished up with whatever he needed to do to locate the little cretin who'd vandalized her home. It would have been a stronger repair until she could get someone who still possessed magic out here to take care of the glass, but since he hadn't shown up yet and unfortunately, the rain had, she had to wing it.

The plastic wasn't keeping all of the weather out but it was holding up better than she'd anticipated as the wind whipped up out of the west. She'd already tried calling Emma to see where her ne'er do well husband might be but found phone lines down even before the power went out. Cell phones rarely worked out here so she wasn't surprised to see No Service on the device screen. Maybe she should start thinking about moving closer to town…

Before it got too dark inside the house, she tossed a few logs into the fireplace and got a nice, warm fire going. From the kitchen, Robin continued to wail in her play yard but Zelena needed to find more candles and flashlights first. This storm was forecast to be a severe one. The arrival of the thunderclaps and lightning flashes ahead of the rain had the child screeching but the weather was only partially responsible for the child's tantrum. She was also vocally protesting that mum had put her into this restrictive baby prison when she wanted to explore and see why mummy was making so much noise in the other room. She didn't like the play yard and she was going to make sure that everyone within earshot knew it.

"I know you don't like it in there, my little pistachio," an exasperated Zelena called out to her daughter. "Mummy just has to finish up some work and then I promise, we'll go snuggle and I'll read you a story. Does that sound good?" She didn't wait for the child's response as she placed the four candles and two flashlights she'd located onto the kitchen counter then stepped over to the stove and turned on the front burner, thankful that the gas was still working. With one hand, she placed the tea kettle atop the blue flames while her other hand opened the cupboard to her left and retrieved a bright pink sippy cup. "How about I get you some juice while I finish up?"

The mention of juice tempered the toddler's mood momentarily as she intently watched her mother pour a few ounces of white grape juice into the cup and twist the lid onto it. Robin greedily snatched it from her mother's hand, the thunderstorm momentarily forgotten as she swallowed her sweet treat, plopping herself down next to a fluffy stuffed rabbit. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Zelena was about to return to the tea kettle when she heard a thud against her front door. Had something blown into the door or was that a knock? Had that miserable pirate turned deputy finally shown up?

"Is that you, Jones?" she asked loudly as she crossed the room to answer the door. "It's about bloody time you showed up… What's your…" She was going to say excuse but stopped herself mid-utterance as she swung open the door to find her door frame smeared with a mixture of blood and mud and a barely conscious Killian Jones collapsed on her front porch. He was laying face down, head resting on her woven straw welcome mat and clothes dripping wet as though he'd been out in the elements for a while. "What the devil happened to you? Where's your car?" Her eyes quickly scanned the gravel drive that led up to her house but saw no sign of a vehicle and realized she'd not heard a car approaching either.

She lowered herself to one knee in the doorway and took hold of his arm, wanting to help him get up and out of the storm. Her gaze caught sight of the series of puddles on the steps leading up to her door noticing that they were all tinged with reddish swirls.

"Are you injured?" she queried. He groaned what must have been an affirmative as he made a feeble attempt to raise his head, managing to force open one dull blue eye that pleaded for help. "Okay - we've got to get you inside. I have no idea what's happened but even I can't leave you out here in this awful weather. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and Zelena grasped his shoulders, feeling him shaking as if his strength would give out at any moment. "Think you can get to your feet with a little help?"

Killian nodded in response as she stood up, extending her arms towards him. His hand was slick with rainwater and blood as he clasped onto hers, hindering him from getting a secure grasp.

"Let's try something different…," she said as she shifted her position, stooping over and sliding her hands beneath his arms then wrapping her own arms around his upper torso. "I can't believe I'm doing this…" she muttered but at least he understood her actions. He scrambled to get his wobbly legs beneath him and pushed himself upward while she steadied his upper body. He caught his hook on the doorframe, using it to help balance himself once he was standing until she could move next to him, placing an arm around his back to guide him through the opening and over to her solid wood kitchen table. She let him brace against it while she kicked the door closed, the slam drawing a shriek from the startled Robin.

"Hang in there, little one. Mummy's got a bit of an emergency here…" As the tea kettle whistle drowned out the toddler, Zelena turned off the flame beneath it before turning her attention back to the ailing pirate dripping blood and water all over her floor and table. "I'm going to get you over to the sofa where you can lay down but first, we need to get you out of that sopping wet coat. It must weigh a ton with all the water it soaked up." Killian offered little resistance as she slid the heavy, rainwater laden leather off of his right arm and then repeated the process on his left, easing the sleeve over his brace and hook before allowing the coat to drop to the floor. She'd worry about it later.

With the burden of the leather coat now off of his shoulders, he huffed out a little sigh followed by a pained moan while nearly toppling over. Zelena caught him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she let him fall against her. "Okay, Jones - just a few more steps, okay?" She led him slowly, nearly dragging him at times, into the living room to her floral print sofa and let him flop onto it. "Lie down and I'll be right back. I'll get some blankets out of the closet and I have some first aid supplies in the cabinet in the loo…"

"Thank...you…" he stuttered through chattering teeth as she pulled the colorful crocheted afghan off the back of the sofa and draped it over his shivering form. She hadn't expected an answer since he could scarcely keep his eyes open so his response caught her off guard.

"You're welcome. Now, just rest a minute." What the devil am I doing? She had this and so many other questions swirling about in her overwhelmed head. Was she actually trying to save the life of the very same man she'd nearly killed just a few short years ago? And he was really trusting her to do this? Had becoming a mother changed her that much? Had sacrificing her magic helped her earn back her humanity? Okay - maybe not that since she'd kill to get her magic back. Well, that probably wasn't the best choice of words…

She shook off the barrage of unanswerable questions as she yanked open the linen closet door to collect some necessary items. She gathered up a pillow from the top shelf, two more blankets and a stack of towels and threw them all into an empty laundry basket. Before closing the door, she reached back in and grabbed a handful of washcloths too, then headed into the bathroom to see what first aid supplies she could locate. With Robin now walking, she'd stocked up on bandages and antiseptic but most of what she had on hand was sized for a child so she might have to improvise a bit. She tossed anything that might be useful into the basket with the linens and then hurried back to the living room.

"Alright, Jones - are you still with me?" He mumbled something unintelligible in his semi-conscious state that she took as a yes. "Okay, first thing we've got to do is get you out of some of these wet clothes and see where all of this blood is coming from…" He seemed to understand what she meant. His jeans were thoroughly soaked, covered in mud from when he'd fallen while trudging up her driveway and they were plastered to his chilled skin. He'd be able to warm up faster without the dampened clothing in the way. There was nothing gratuitous about it, but it didn't mean that Zelena was going to enjoy this part.

There was no pretense of modesty as she unbuckled his belt and unfastened the buttons on his trousers, keeping her eyes squeezed shut the whole time. She tugged the heavy, uncooperative fabric over his hips, praying that the pirate wasn't going commando. It wasn't that she hadn't seen male anatomy before; she just had no desire to see a former enemy's private parts.

Once she'd managed to get the denim pulled down to his knees, she quickly threw the afghan back over his hips before daring to open her eyes. Seeing Captain Hook's bare knees and shins was something she could handle as long as the rest of his lower extremities were covered. She did immediately come to the realization that she'd forgotten a step - she'd neglected to remove his boots. Thankfully for her, even though the black leather boots were as waterlogged as his matching coat, they were only ankle height with elastic sides to make them easier to slip on and off. She barely managed to stifle a giggle as she yanked them off of his feet and uncovered his navy blue socks that had tiny white sailboats printed on them. Novelty socks were not something she would have thought him to sport, but she kept any commentary to herself as she finished removing his jeans and set them aside on the hardwood floor.

Now came the hard part. She had to get a look at the wound.

He flinched and writhed in pain as she began to undo the buttons on his leather waistcoat and the midnight blue shirt beneath. She picked up one of the towels and held it at the ready while she peeled the layers of leather and fabric away. He hissed and then howled in agony as she raised the shirt and pressed the towel to the deep crimson puddle pooling on his abdomen, allowing the cotton to soak up some of the blood before taking a second glance at the hole in his side. She raised the towel slightly so she could see it better - small, but bleeding profusely. Keep pressure on it, her brain reminded her as she held the towel firmly in place and Killian cried out in protest.

"I'm so sorry. I know this has to hurt but we need to slow the bleeding," she insisted. "Is this a bullet wound?" She had limited experience with pistols, preferring fireballs to firearms, but she couldn't think of any other weapon that would have inflicted this sort of wound.

Killian gave a slight nod of his head as his body trembled through another resurgent wave of pain. "Call...Emma…" he begged, words coming out in staccato through tightly clenched teeth.

"I would if I could," she informed him. "The storm knocked out the power and the phone lines. Wouldn't be a problem if I still had magic, but you've got a pathetic waste of a witch here… Anyway, I had already tried calling her earlier when you hadn't shown up. I thought you'd blown me off…"

"Would...be...bad...form...Got...shot…" he explained what had already been obvious.

"I know that now. I have a tendency to think the worst of people, you know?"

He tried to crack a smile but found it hurt too much. "The…bullet…? Did…it… go...through?"

"I hadn't checked that just yet. Think you can roll onto your left side a bit?" He nodded and did his best to shift his weight to his left hip and turn his body towards the rear of the sofa, giving her a clearer view of his back to search for an exit wound. She raised the hem of his shirt higher and located the slightly wider hole where the bullet had passed through his flesh. "I see where it came out," she told him as she picked up another towel to cover the exit point. She sensed a little relief from him at this revelation. "Is that a good thing?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Better than... a chunk of lead… bouncing around… inside my chest," he grimaced, bracing himself for what he had to ask of her next. "Do you… have anything… to disinfect…?"

He didn't need to finish the sentence as she answered right away. "I do have antiseptic, but you should know, this is going to sting." He didn't really need the warning. He knew and his breath was already hitching in his throat in anticipation as she picked up the bottle that presumably contained the antiseptic she spoke of. It conveniently had an aerosol sprayer for easier application but there was no amount of preparation that could halt the primal, guttural scream that escaped his lungs the moment the substance came in contact with tender skin. The tidal wave of sensations proved to be more than his weakened body could bear as he allowed himself to succumb to the blissful peace of unconsciousness.

Zelena watched him go limp as the dueling howling of the wind and wailing of her daughter echoed through the farmhouse. She could still hear his labored breathing indicating he was alive but there wasn't much else she could do for him. She did her best to patch up the wounds by covering them with clean folded washcloths that she'd sprayed with the antiseptic solution before securing them in place with strips of cloth tape from her medicine cabinet. She tucked the pillow under his head and layered the two additional blankets over top of him to protect him from the drafts making their way around the blue tarp. She could only keep her fingers crossed that her improvised window covering would hold.

It wasn't perfect but it would have to do until the storm passed, she reminded herself as she gathered up the bloody towels and his dripping wet jeans, placing everything into the laundry basket for now. She kicked the basket off to the side as she stood up and headed to the kitchen to wash up, tossing another log onto the flickering fire as she passed by. Once she'd scrubbed away the blood and dried off, she scooped up her teary-eyed daughter who vocalized her displeasure once more as a flash of lighting and an instant rumble of thunder shook the house. Bouncing the toddler on her hip to ease her sobbing, Zelena stared out of her kitchen window watching the rain pelting against the glass.

This was turning into one very long day.

[fortey]

Nic Cage vs Zombies the Comic

If you want to appreciate how Nic Cage vs Zombies would work in comic book form, here’s the script for the first issue.

Nic Cage vs Zombies: Issue 1

The point here is to be the most intense thing anyone has ever seen or imagined seeing. This story exists for one purpose - to convince you the world can only be saved by Nic Cage.

PAGE 1

 Panel 1 - long panel across the top 3rd of the page

Nighttime in Chinatown. The street is crowded despite the rain.  Shops are crammed tight together and signs in different shapes of pink and red and yellow neon advertising restaurants stand stark against the black of the night.  Cars and bicycles go up and down the street, as do pedestrians with umbrellas. Paper lanterns are strung from one side of the street to another in criss cross patterns

CAPTION: Chinatown.

Panel 2 - tall panel, the left half of what remains on the page

A figure stands at the mouth of an alley in a long coat and rumple cowboy hat. His back is to us and he is hallowed by the massobe, pink neon sign of the DRAGON COURT Chinese restaurant.  The people on the street pay him no mind.

Panel 3: - identical to previous panel on the right on the page

The figure crosses the street towards another alley on the side of the Chinese restaurant

PAGE 2

Panel 1 of a three panel bar across the top

The figure sidesteps a scooter the splashes him from a puddle

Panel 2: 

The figure makes his way down the alley. A single bulb at the end draws him in

Panel 3: 

close on the hand knocking on a thick steel door under one of those sliding peep hole things.

Panel 4 of another 3 panels across the center of the page

The peep hole slides open. Eyes gaze out.

Panel 5:

The door is open and the cowboy hat-wearing figure is silhouetted as he enters.

Panel 6:

The door is closed.  The rain pelts down

Panel 7 of another 3 panels on the bottom

Side view of the figure as he walks down a dim, concrete hall lined with pipes.  He is still cast in silhouette so we only see his shadowy proflle

Panel 8 

The figure is heading down a staircase.

Panel 9: 

The figure from behind in a basement. The quarters are close. Water drips from apipe. There is a bulb on the ceiling.  Our figure is in the foreground, a black shape.  

SHAPE:  Uh… hey.

PAGE 3 

splash page, one single panel

Our figure is in the foreground but the focus is not on him.  In the center of the hall before another door is a hulking beast of a man.  It is the ALBINO.  He is 7’4” tall, think The Mountain from Game of Thrones but pale white and smooth hairless.  He wears leather pants and no shirt, but he does have on a leather apron. At his hip is a holstered meat cleaver.  And on his massive bald head is a bike helmet with a GoPro affixed to it.  His eyes are pale blue and his jaw is thick.

SHAPE: Nice apron.

PAGE 4 

Panel 1 of a two panel spread on the top third of the page.

The Albino takes hold of the handle of a huge wooden door and pulls it open.  From the cracks, golden light spills out.

ALBINO: HMMM.

Panel 2: 

Our shape stands in the doorway, He is a black silhouette against golden light that spills out like the sun itself was in the room on the other side of the door.

Panel 3 spreads across the entire middle third of the page

The room beyond the door is like Shangri-La - it’s a casino but no ordinary casino.  The room is enormous with massively high ceilings.  There are wall sconce torches and dozens if not hundred of patrons at all manner of tables. Everyone is dressed formally, and suspended from cords Cirque du Soleil style are wait staff who descend from the ceiling.  There are dozens of gaming tables and everything is gold and silver.  There are statues lining walls and it’s basically the fanciest damn place you can imagine

Panel 4 is the bottom third of the page.  Finally we see the shape’s face.  It’s Nic Cage.  We’re medium close on him as the door shuts behind him.  

NIC CAGE: Nice.

PAGE 5 

Panel 1 - this is the top half of the page, so only two panels total here. 

Cage descends a small staircase, handing his coat and hat to someone in a tux. Servers on lines descend from a bar that is suspended above the entire room. They bob up and down like spiders here and there.  

Panel 2: 

Cage passes by tables of gamblers. People are pushing unusual items across tables, placing bets not with money but with things like jewels, a fossils, strange bundles of papers and curious, rare knick knacks. A 4 piece string band plays on a stage to the side

PAGE 6 

Panel 1 of two panels across top of page

Cage, from behind, in foreground as he approach a set of double doors set into the wall.  It is guarded by two identical women in matching suits and sunglasses on either side of the door.  The only difference between them is that they have the opposite side of their heads shaved, so that the side facing out has long,shoulder-length straight black hair hanging down and the side facing in, towards each other, are bald.  The women have dark skin and wear sunglasses.

The doors look to be carved from solid jade.  They are ornate and carved with dragons and Chinese lions.

Panel 2

The women wordlessly pull open the doors for Cage. Inside is a single table with three people seated at it, and some other elegant furnishings.  The people are  ways from the door and not terrible detailed by they are TEDDY SOLSTICE, a young, dark-skinned man in his 20s who has a wooden box about the size of a loaf of bread on the table before him. MRS. LUMBERG, a very rich, very elegant woman in her 40s sits before a manilla envelope and LAO CHE-FUNG, a Chinese man in his late 70s who is very decrepit and somewhat sinister.  Behind Che-Fung is a beefy man in a suit, his bodyguard, who stands next to a large, tarp-covered object.  Though we can’t sea it, it is the man-sized cage that holds a zombie.

Panel 3 of a two panel spread in the center of the page

Cage shakes hands with Teddy Solstice over the table.

TEDDY: Welcome, Mr. Cage.

NIC CAGE: Teddy, please, it’s just Nic. How are you this evening?

TEDDY: Very well, Mr. Cage. And you?

Panel 4

Nic Cage clasps the white-gloved hand of Mrs. Lumberg.

NIC CAGE: I am so much better now that I see the lovely Mrs. Lumberg is here!

MRS. LUMBERG: Flattery gets you everywhere, my dear Nicolas.  Do sit down.

Panel 5 of two panels across the bottom of the page

Nic Cage has taken his seat, and Teddy Solstice now sits also.

NIC CAGE: Sorry for being so late, parking is a nightmare.  Good to see you as well Mr. Lao. Do we have stakes?

Panel 6

Nic Cage sets a small, glass jar with a cork stopper on the table.  Inside are teeth. Human teeth.

NIC CAGE: Elvis Presley. Or his teeth, at least. Clone yourself the King of Rock and Roll or just make a necklace.

PAGE 7 

Panel 1 of three panels on the top of the page

Centered on Teddy Solstice hold open the box before him. There is a fist-sized rock within, dotted with what looks like yellow glass or gems. They glow very softly in the grey stone.

TEDDY: The largest pallasite meteorite yet discovered on Earth with this degree of radiance.

Panel 2

Centered on Mrs. Lumberg as she pulls files from the manila envelope. They are property deeds.

MRS. LUMBERG: The deeds to the childhood homes of Ed Gein, Jeffrey Dahmer and Charles Manson.

Panel 3

Centered on Lao Che-Fung.  He is simply sitting still, looking old and decrepit, lifting a hand to gesture to the bodyguard.  Behind him, on his left is the bodyguard and the tarp-covered structure.

LAO CHE-FUNG: While your tokens are rare indeed, I would be remiss if I did not say I had expected something more...

Panel 4 One full panel encompassing the rest of the page.  The body guard has pulled the tarp and we now see what appears to be a human-sized aquarium.  Inside, restrained with shackles as ancient as Lao Che-Fung himself, is a zombie.  It’s flesh is ragged and dusty old looking, like leaves on a plant that is on the cusp of death.  It is insanely thin, bones are visible beneath its flesh, and it wears only one item - a simple jade necklace on a silver chain about its neck.  One of its eyes is milk white but the other is all too sharp and alive, staring out at everyone.

ZOMBIE SFX: NNNNGGHAAAAAGGH!!!

The others are not visible in this panel, except for a partial view of the bodyguard to one side.  When Lao -Che-Fung speaks, his words come from off panel.

LAO CHE-FUNG: … unusual.

PAGE 8 

Left panel of two panels on top of the page.  

Panel 1: Nic Cage has stood from his chair and looks shocked.  Mrs Lumberg clutches at her chest in that offended, old lady way.  Teddy Solstice looks terrified.

NIC CAGE: What the hell is that?!

Panel 2: Lao Che-Fung has still not moved at all, looks like he may as well be asleep.  He is sitting in the foreground at the table, with the zombie visible behind him.

LAO CHE-FUNG: Do relax, my friends, there is no danger. In a game where money is no motivator, I had expected perhaps one of you could say you had brought to the table an item of value on par with my own.  Please, behold the abomination of Emperor Li Hahn, cursed to live beyond death.

Panel 3 of a two panel spread in the center of the page 

Close on Nic Cage’s face with an arched eyebrow.

NIC CAGE: I’m sorry, my blood sugar must be low. Did you just imply that this is a zombie?

Panel 4 on Lao Che-Fung, his expression still set and unmoving, like he just doesn’t care.

LAO CHE-FUNG: Indeed, Mr. Cage.

Panel 5 of a three panel spread across the bottom of the page.  This one just focuses on the shocked face of Mrs. Lumberg.

Panel 6 is framed exactly the same, the shocked face of Teddy Solstice.

Panel 7 is framed the same on Nic Cage, only with a wry smile now.

NIC CAGE:  Huh.  Well, that’s funky. Can’t say that I’ve ever seen one of those before.

PAGE 9

Two panels across top of page.  The first panel focuses on Lao Che-Fung who, for the first time, has changed his expression to the barest hint of a smile.

LAO CHE-FUNG: Emperor Li Hahn is the only of his kind in the world.

Panel 2: Nc Cage looks considering, sitting back in his seat.

NIC CAGE: Well, and don’t get me wrong, this is very far out stuff, but I’m not sure why I want a zombie.  I mean, it’s rare, sure, but what can it do?

Panel 3 of two middle panels focuses on Teddy Solstice

TEDDY: Carry luggage?

Panel 4 is Mrs. Lumberg, holding a gloved hand to her nose.

MRS. LUMBERG: It smells atrocious.

Panel 5 of two bottom panels goes back to Nic Cage

NIC CAGE: It does! It’s like beef jerky in a toilet on a hot day. Or like -

SFX OF DOOR CRASHING IN:  THUNK!

Panel 6:  The door has been kicked in and a DETECTIVE stands front and center with uniform cops streaming in behind him, guns drawn.  The detective is holding a warrant.

DETECTIVE: Mr. Lao Che-Fung, this is a warrant for your arrest!

PAGE 10:  

Long panel down the left side of the page.  One of the uniform officers is at the zombie aquarium looking freaked out.  The poker players are still seated and caught off guard.  The detective stands at the edge of the table.

DETECTIVE: We’ve got you on charges of operating an illegal gambling facility, trafficking in antiquities, rare and endangered animals and -

COP: (Interrupting detective):  Detective Mills, what the hell is this?

Panel 2 is the top half of what remains of the page.  The uniform officer is at the aquarium and the zombie is focused on him as the officer reaches for the latch on the door.

COP: My God, what are you doing to this man?

LAO CHE-FUNG: Detective, please, you must not do this!

Panel 3 is focused on Detective Mills as the uniform officer has the latches open.  Mills has his gun trained on Lao Che-Fung

DETECTIVE: You better think twice about telling me what I must do, Lao. I’ve had enough of your crap over the last 6 years, and this is the final nail in your coffin.

LAO CHE-FUNG: Please, Detective! I beg you, you have no idea -

PAGE 11 SPLASH PAGE!  

One giant panel of madness.  The door has burst open, the zombie has leapt on the uniform officer.  The others in the room are reeling back, the poker table is in the process of being knocked as the officer falls on it, the zombie atop of him, its yellow teeth crunching into the officer's neck, blood exploding outward like a fountain.  Nic Cage and Lao Che-Fung are to the right side of the page, Teddy, Mrs. Lumberg and the Detective to the right with the zombie and the dying officer front and center.

The zombie’s attack is bestial, like a cat pouncing on a mouse.  Its body is lithe and thin, but ropey with muscles.

COP SCREAMING SFX: GAAAGGGHHH!!

ZOMBIE SFX : GRRRRK!

PAGE 12

Large panel across the top of the page. The zombie is now feasting on the bodyguard as the Detective and two other officers draw firearms.  Mrs Lumberg is on her butt against the wall, Teddy Solstice has stumbled back and steadied himself on a small cabinet.  Lao Che-Fung is scuttling back to a folding partition where we can see the barest hint of a door hidden. Nic Cage has leapt back.  A massive fountain of blood is spurting up from the bodyguard.

MRS LUMBERG: AAAAHH!!!!

Panel 2 across the center of the page

The detective and two uniform officers open fire. The zombie lifts its head in a snarl as holes riddle its body.

GUNSHOT SFX: BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

DETECTIVE: Jesus!

Panel 3 of two panels on the bottom of the page

Teddy Solstice pushes past the cops for the door as Lao Che-Fung escapes out a back door. The zombie is on its feet  Here the detective aims point blank at the zombie’s chest and fires

GUNSHOT SFX: BLAM!

Panel 4 is the zombie.  Its snarl turns to a very slight but noticeable smile.  Its chin and chest is soaked in blood.

DETECTIVE: Mother of God...

PAGE 13

Another large panel on the top of the page.  Behind the zombie, the officer is back on his feet.  The red blood from his neck has soaked his uniform, but the wound is now spiderwebbed in angry, black veins that run up his face.  His expression is vacant.

DETECTIVE:  Officer Riley?

Panel 2 is one half of two panels in the center of the page.  Riley is now fury as he lunges at Detective Mills, who is caught off guard.

Panel 3 is the second half of the middle scene.  Riley is on top of Detective Mills and has sunk his teeth into the detective’s face, biting his cheek, lip and nose.

DETECTIVE: JESUAAAAAAGHHHHH!!

Panel 4 is the full panel across the bottom.  Emperor Li Hahn is on one of the uniform officer’s and the bodyguard is grasping Mrs. Lumberg’s leg.  Only one uniform officer remains standing along with Nic Cage.  

MRS LUMBERG: Help me, please!

PAGE 14

This is 5 small panels across the top of the page, like a pure action sequence, all close ups.  

Panel 1 shows Mrs. Lumberg as the bodyguard bites into her ankle.

Panel 2 shows the officer tearing a strip from Detective Mill’s face

Panel 3 shows Emperor Li Hahn biting into the next uniform officer

Panel 4 shows Detective Mills with black veins spreading all around his ruined face wounds

Panel 5 is just zombie teeth splattering blood and gore

Panel 6 is in one of two panels in the center of the page.  Nic Cage has edged to the door where the final officer fights with Li Hahn. The officer is reaching out to Cage.

OFFICER: Hel...p!

Panel 7 is Li Hahn literally pulling the throat out of the officer.

Panel 8 is  the first of three frames across the bottom. Nic Cage runs from the room, so we see him head on with the door behind him.  He has a spray of blood across his face and he’s in the casino proper now. He’s in a dead run.

NIC CAGE: EVERYONE REALLY NEEDS TO NOT BE HERE!

Panel 9 is the casino in chaos. Detective Mills and Riley follow Cage out of the room, both dripping blood and gross and looking horrifying.  

Panel 10 is other officers rushing to the scene, patrons running wild

PAGE 15

Panel 1 of two panels across the top of the page.  The second officer, who asked Cage for help, lunges at one of those Cirque du Soleil waiters next to Cage

Panel 2 is Cage smashing the jar of Elvis teeth upside the zombie’s head as he pulls the waiter away with the other hand.  Shards of glass and teeth fly to one side along with dark blood.  The zombie’s face is busted pretty badly.

Panel 3 of two panels that make up the rest of the page, so they’re each two thirds of the page long, give or take.  I want the height here for what’s about to happen.  Cage and the waiter reverse bungee up to the catwalk ceiling bar.

Panel 4 is Cage and the Waiter now suspended from the ceiling.  The bar up here is glass with a steel grate floor, and a grate catwalk that leads away to a door.  All the wait staff are on these reverse bungee cords which are attached to mobile rigs that let them scoot around the room.  Minor detail, but they’re up there on the ceiling.

WAITER: What the hell is going on?!?

NIC CAGE: Zombies, man.

WAITER: Who the hell brought zombies to a casino?!?

NIC CAGE: Old Chinese man.

WAITER: Are we safe up here?

PAGE 16

Panel 1 of two panels on the top of the page.  Nic Cage and the waiter are interrupted by a new waiter rolling up to the bar, clutching at the edge of it with one of the two zombified twin door guards on his back, biting his skull.

NIC CAGE:  Oh man…

Panel 2 is the waiter pointing to a door set into a wall at the end of the catwalk

WAITER: That leads into the kitchen, we can get out there.

Panel 3 of two panels across the center of the page is Cage running down the catwalk with the waiter behind him.

Panel 4 is another wait springing up to the catwalk.  He is zombified, and latches onto the waiter’s leg.  

WAITER: AAAAGHH!!

Panel 5 of two panels across the bottom is Cage turning.  A second zombie server, a woman in a tuxedo shirt soaked in blood, has sprung up on the waiter’s other side.  

Panel 6 is Cage grabbing the waiter’s hand while the new server is biting down on the waiter’s shoulder.  The first is still eating the leg.

PAGE 17

Panel 1 is a long one across the top of the page.  The waiter’s arm comes off in Cage’s hands thanks to the zombie eating his shoulder.  The waiter is falling off the catwalk under the weight of the two zombies eating him.

Panel 2 of three panels in the center of the page.  Cage is just holding the arm still as the barest hint of the waiter is visible, falling from the catwalk.  

Panel 3:  Cage looks at the hand and arm he’s holding

Panel 4:  Cage tosses the arm 

Panel 5 is another long panel, showing a long shot of the whole scene.  There is chaos on the floor as people scramble and fight, while above on the catwalk, Cage runs for the door.  This is all seen at a bit of a distance to fit it all in, so it’s more the silhouette of Cage running, while small figures fight below.

PAGE 18

Panel 1 of three panels across the top of the page.  Inside the kitchen, with Nic Cage bursting through the door from the catwalk beyond.  Staff inside are busy prepping food, dressed in typical kitchen whites.

Panel 2: Cage rushes into the kitchen past stoves and cooks.

NIC CAGE:  OUT! EVERYONE REALLY NEEDS TO GET OUT NOW!

Panel 3:  From Cage’s perspective now, as a handful of cooks and a dishwasher lean back to look down the way at Cage with silent, confused expressions.

Panel 4 of two center panels. A zombie waiter lurches through the kitchen door.

ZOMBIE:  UNNNNGHH!!

Panel 5: The zombie grabs a cook and bites his arm.  The cook screams.

COOK: AAAAAGGGH!  AAAAGHHH!!!

Panel 6 of three panels across the bottom.  Cage grabs a meat cleave off of a nearby cutting board.

Panel 7: Cage’s arm cocks for throwing, the blade of the cleaver glints

Panel 8: Cage’s arm is fully extended, the Cleaver is in flight

Page 19

Panel 1 of two panels across the top of the page: The Cleaver spins like a ninja star, the background is just a blur

Panel 2: The cleaver hits dead center, embedded right between the zombie’s eyes and splitting its head like a super gross melon.

Panel 3 of two center panels:  The kitchen staff are all in the exact same position as when they first leaned back to look at Cage on the last page, still silent but now they all look totally shocked.  When Cage speaks, it comes from the bottom of the panel as he is not visible and this is his view of the kitchen staff.

NIC CAGE: RUN!

Panel 4:  The kitchen staff bolt for the door and Cage runs with them.

Panel 5 is one large panel at the bottom. 

Nighttime in Chinatown. The street is busy despite rainfall - the neon lights and paper lanterns give it life and there are pedestrians with umbrellas and cars filling the streets, minding their own business.  The restaurant staff are bolting in all directions Cage is running into the street.  To his side, dangerous close, is a Chinese food delivery guy on a scooter.  They’re about to collide but haven’t done so just yet.

Page 20

Panel one is the full panel across the top of the page.  Cage and the delivery boy collide.  The delivery boy is JEFFREY, a kid of about 20.  He’s wearing a helmet and a red jacket with the dragon logo of the restaurant on the back.  His scooter is one of those e-bike types, with a little basket on the back for holding orders.  He’s a skinny kid, with brown hair and a bit of a dork appeal to him.

NIC CAGE: OOF!

Panel 2 of two center panels:  Nic Cage is splayed out on the wet street.  The scooter is overturned, Jeffrey is down next to it on his side

JEFFREY: Gah…

NIC CAGE: Not..good…

Panel 3 is Nic Cage getting to his feet, looking over at Jeffery

NIC CAGE: Hey, kid, are you alright I’m really - 

JEFFREY: Nic Cage!

Panel 4 of two on the bottom is Cage offering his hand to help Jeffrey up.

NIC CAGE:  Yes, actually.  But also sorry.  But listen, we have to -

JEFFREY: Oh my God, I love you! Like not in an insane way.  Face/Off is such  bad ass movie! Can I shake your hand.

Panel 5 is Jeffrey taking Cage’s hand as Cage pulls him to his feet.

NIC CAGE: You can! You are! But hey, we really have to go.  

JEFFREY: We do? Why? Where?

PAGE 21

This page will be 6 even panels, three on top and three on the bottom

Panel 1:  Cage is holding the handlebars of Jeffrey’s scooter

NIC CAGE: Is this yours? Give me a ride to my hotel and I’ll tell you all about it.

Panel 2: Jeffrey looks unsure.  This is a side view with him in the foreground and the restaurant behind him, so you can see his jacket and the restaurant have the same logo.

JEFFREY: I don’t know, Mr. Cage. I have to get back to work soon, this is my delivery scooter.

Panel 3:  Someone in a tux, one of the gamblers, runs screaming from the restaurant as Cage takes his position on the scooter

SCREAM SFX:  AAAAAAAGHHHHHH!!!!!!

NIC CAGE: I think you’ve probably got the rest of the night off...uh… what’s your name?

Panel 4: Jeffrey gets on behind Cage, another person runs from the restaurant.  

SCREAM SFX (maybe a little bit smaller and seeming to come from deeper in the restaurant):  NOOOOOOO!!!!

JEFFREY: Jeffrey.  Hey, what’s going on?

Panel 5:  Cage is tearing off down the street, as fast as one can tear off on a double-occupied e-bike scooter.  Behind them, the sound of sirens approaches, and more screams

SIREN SFX: WEEEE-OOOO WEEEE-OOOO WEEEE-OOOO

SCREAM SFX: AAHHH! AHHH! HELLLLLLPPPP MEEEE!!

NIC CAGE: Zombies, Jeffrey. Zombies are going on.

Panel 6: rear view of the scooter vanishing into the distance, and in the foreground, a pair of zombies, one the kitchen staff guy who was bit and one the cirque du soleil waiter who helped Cage, are shambling into the street.

PAGE 22

One panel of two across the top of the page here.  A long shot of a fancy hotel with a curved laneway leading to the front door.  Cage is driving up with Jeffrey on the back of the Scooter.

Panel 2: Cage tosses the keys to a valet as he heads to the big glass doors of the hotel. Jeffrey is following but looks very confused and lost.

Panel 3 is one wide center panel of Cage entering his hotel room, key card in hand, with Jeffrey following behind.  It’s a nice looking hotel room, but nothing out of the ordinary.  It’s what you might expect a movie star to stay in. The far wall is a giant picture window with the curtains drawn.

Panel 4 of three across the bottom of the page.  Jeffrey is standing while Cage is holding a phone to his ear.

Panel 5: Close on Cage as he talks on the phone.

NIC CAGE: Marty, it’s Nic. Listen, I need a flight home. Things got weird here.

Panel 6 is a wider shot.  Cage has a remote control in his other hand and has turned the TV on.  There is a shot of a flaming zombie and the chyron reads “CHINATOWN PANIC”

NIC CAGE: Marty, I need you to listen carefully.  I saw a zombie tonight. It ate about a dozen people and now everyone in Chinatown is dead I think. I would like to go home.

PAGE 23

Panel 1 is a large panel across the top of the page.  Jeffrey is looking shocked, checking out the mayhem on the TV. Cage is pacing the room talking on the phone.

NIC CAGE: Look at your TV, Marty.  It’s the walking dead.  I killed one with a meat cleaver and I bungeed to a ceiling bar and I just came here to relax before the opening.  This is not relaxing.

Panel 2 is one of three long panels that make up the remainder of the page.  Nic Cage is chewing his nails while Jeffrey is glued to the TV which depicts the tiny image of a zombie biting someone.

JEFFREY:  Uh, Mr. Cage.

NIC CAGE: Jeffrey, please, I’m on the phone.

Panel 3: Jeffrey is plastered to the TV.  Chinatown is on fire.

JEFFREY: Mr. Cage, look at this! I live on 14th Street, that’s like 10 blocks from here.  My girlfriend is home with her brother! I have to get to them!

Panel 4 is Nic Cage holding up a finger to shush Jeffrey.

NIC CAGE: Jeffrey -- wait, what? Marty, how the hell did they shut the airport down already?

PAGE 24

Two panels one on top of the other to end this issue  Panel 1 features Jeffrey turning away from the TV and instead taking hold of the curtains.  Nic Cage is still on the phone.

NIC CAGE:  If I die here, Marty, you’re fired.

JEFFREY: Mr. Cage…

Panel 2 on the bottom of the page.  Jeffrey has thrown open the curtains and he and Nic Cage are in the foreground, from behind, looking out.  The view out the window is the bulk of the panel.  Normally this would be an amazing view looking down from a decent height at the city at night.  Instead, it shows a scene that could be mistaken for the end of the world.  Fires burn in numerous places, including one massive fire in the distance that we can assume s Chinatown.  There are helicopters in the sky, and small fires all over the place.  In the near distance there’s even a flaming zombie walking down a street.

NIC CAGE:  Marty, I gotta go.