#i just know they would be the shittiest grandpas of all time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

androgynousblackbox · 2 years ago

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I watched the two first episodes of RAM and here are thoughts + theory, kinda (spoilers)

So the first one was already pretty interesting, establishing that Space Beth will be hanging around and also that whatever Mortys are left on the Citadel are fucking dead or lost all their shits. That alone makes me think... Why? Why did Mortys lose it like that and why our Morty didn’t? The only difference between those Morties and our own is that our Morty still has his Rick by his side. On the comics we have seen that Rickless Morty can become a monster himself, just like our Morty has been when Rick isn’t around, so that got me thinking that maybe there’s an effect of suppression that Ricks have for their Mortys. Like they are literally born to serve Ricks, so why they wouldn’t also play with their ADN so they feel that intrinsic submission to their assigned Rick no matter what happens and once Rick is out of the picture, they just lose it completely? The last season was all about the relationship between Rick and Morty, and how Rick became dependant on Morty but, more importantly even, that Morty WILL accept Rick even if he is still the shittiest piece of shit imaginable. Like, Morty literally CAN’T be without his Rick even when Beth very rightfully tells him to demand more respect and be treated equally. That part, honestly? Almost annoyed the shit out of me, because before that it looked like Morty have been doing a lot of progress on himself, building confidence, not needing Rick as much as he did before and even taking the initative on some stuff completely on his own. But on the last season he is literally begging on his knees for Rick to come back and doesn’t even care about how he is treated as long they can be together, even if he knows he is going to be treated like crap. That has bugged the hell out of me because this was the perfect chance to have Morty thrive on his own and for once to have Rick be the one chasing after him. I didn’t get that, but now I think it could happen for this season. For a very long time, Morty has been the biggest believer on Rick’s goodness since as far we know him. Whenever someone had doubt about Rick, Morty came out with the biggest FUCK YOU, HE IS COMING BACK AND YOU ARE ALL FUCKING DEAD. He is fully aware that his grandpa is an awful, bad, bad man but he still always had that inherent trust on him and that one way or another Rick would always be there for him... as he has, in fact, been. I have seen a lot of people worrying that the second episode will somehow erase all the progress that Morty did, but that is not how I really read that ending? Remember that by the end we have that scene where the workers are taking away the broken videogame and they comment about how there is still a old lady inside because the game won’t reset. That part that didn’t integrated with Morty? That was Marta. Marta, who was the first one to believe on Rick completely, not as a religious thing but an actual fact, and was such of an strong believer that she managed to convinced the entire virtual world to join them even after all the wars, years and bullshit that happened. It was the words and will of Marta that convinced everyone to come together to be Morty again, because that part of Morty inside of her trusted on Rick that much and wanted to live by his side that much. And now, that part is gone. When Morty said “I trust you implicitely” I think that was more him trying to convince himself rather than talking to Rick, because it must feel weird, right? That voice inside of him that always wanted to see the best of Rick and thought it would always be safe at his side is not there anymore. There is only silence and doubt (so many doubts, so many tiny parts screaming this isn’t okay) where Marta’s part should have been. Wether it was a product of his controlled breeding by Ricks, something Rick himself installed on him or something he developed himself, in a way Morty is free now because now he is able to see Rick on an entirely new light and be scared, annoyed and not needing him as much as the previous season. I think this is setting up that Morty will reach his breaking point and Rick will have to be the one to go after him, because even on that episode Morty/Marta had to fucking drag Rick to show ONE fucking bit of affection for his grandson. Now it won’t be enough and I want to see that so badly, like Rick having to break down for him, to be completely honest and vulnerable to have Morty develop that faith again. Meanwhile, Marta? Some rich guy payed off to have her still there and since this is the only apparent villain we have set up this season, let’s assume that Rick Prime will have her transfer into his own Morty that he will use to take revenge on Rick for getting his ass stucked for how many years he was there and because he is just that fucking petty. I don’t know how, but I want to see Morty going through that struggle of knowing he is just a tool, don’t liking it and doing something about it so our Rick has to step up his game. A full Morty that is nothing but Marta could be so easily played. She will believe on her Rick no matter what on his word alone and trust him so much even if she literally has no fucking proof of anything, all the while our Morty might have some proof (all his memories, all the times Rick did helped him and love him) but can’t be the same deeply loyal kid who stand up to the whole Citadel and declared that his grandpa would come back for him. That is the kind of struggle I want to see this season. “Oh this season is about how Rick actually cares about his family.” We know that already! We know this so fucking much that even his family is rolling his eyes and being “whatever, old man” when he starts going on his diatribe “I don’t care, you think I care? Because I don’t care! I said I don’t care”. Like it’s an actual joke at this point how everyone knows he is full of shit and actually does fucking care, it’s that fucking obvious for everyone around him. If someone still believes that Rick doesn’t then I don’t know what fucking show they have been watching because it wasn’t this one. Because he fucking does and instead of him just sad because he lost people, I want him to actually FIGHT for something, to love something so desperately and crudely that it will convince even the most skeptical of Mortys that he is worth following. That is what is missing, people, that is what we need to see!

#rick and morty

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hostagine · 3 years ago

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Who is the shittiest dad in Ouran though

Yes. I love the dads. Lets goo.

I don't want to say who the shittiest is, because none of them are a terrible dad to their kids, but I will rank them because some are better than others. I also take constructive criticism. I'd like to know other's opinions!

Ranked worst dad to best dad.

6: Yoshio Ootori. He isn't a bad dad. His children have a lot of respect for him and he's constantly pushing them only so that they can be the best and most successful versions of themselves. He's strict and it makes sense that all of his children are doctors or work in the medical field (the business part of it at least), and he's never not supported any of his kids. Despite Kyoya joining an obnoxious club, he never told him he had to stop, and he never forced Kyoya to be Tamaki's friend. He just asked him to be friendly. He fails in showing them his love though and I never liked how he pushed Fumiko away from the family after she got married. Yoshio is just so old school and it affects his relationship with them.

A good provider, but wasn't very present.

5: Yuzuru Suoh: I think if his relationship with his mother was a better one, he would have been a better dad, but Yuzuru let his relationship with his mother affect his relationship with Tamaki. Yuzuru hated his mom for forcing him into a loveless marriage and then not accepting his marriage with Anne Sophie. He obviously did not respect her but he let her trample all over Tamaki, for 18 years, and didn't say a word just because "she's the chairman". Yuzuru only visited Tamaki when he was a child probably only on holidays and his birthday, and maybe a few days during the summer. Tamaki's grandmother made him come to Japan and leave his mother behind, and Yuzuru let her do it, but when Yuzuru finds medicine to cure Anne, he's suddenly like "I'm going to force my mother into retirement" showing that he's had the power to overthrow her for a long time. Making Tamaki mend the loose strings.

Yuzuru loves Tamaki but he's been too obsessed with rebelling against his own mother rather than thinking what's best for Tamaki.

Even Tamaki thinks his dad is a "lousy old man."

4: Ryoji 'Ranka' Fujioka: He loves Haruhi, obviously. That little girl is his entire world, and he really does do his best, but he was so young when he became a dad, and after Kotoko died he just became so irresponsible that his 4 year old was taking care of him. She was 5 when he was being carried home by his boss after getting drunk at work, and Haruhi probably learned how to cook because he wouldn't and probably brought home junk college student food when he went shopping. And whenever Haruhi went shopping, he'd follow behind her and watch her shop instead of - i dunno - helping. I understand being raised the way she was made her into a badass, and he worked a lot, and did provide for her, but there was a lot of things Ryoji could have helped when raising her.

3: Yorihisa Haninozuka: I don't know much about how Yorihisa is with his kids. From the little bit we see, Yori's only fault being that maybe he forces his family's traditions on them and doesn't support their individual views or hobbies in life, but Yorihisa always comes to see his kids during school events and festivities and always speaks about them with love. I believe he probably has really great relationships with his sons in their adult life too.

He's the kind of dad who will throw a knife at Mitsukuni at the dinner table, and would cry if his son doesn't dodge, and ends up getting stabbed. But would proudly pat him on the back if Mitsukuni does dodge, and stabs him instead.

Overall, a loving dad. But probably terrified his wife constantly because he was a little unsafe around the kids when they were babies.

2: Hayato Hitachiin: Second, for the most unbiased reasons as possible. Hayato was so quiet and soft spoken and mature And is probably one of the very few people in the world that Hikaru and Kaoru actually respected as children because of his cool demeanor and the fact that he's probably the only one beside the twins aunt who discipline them, when he's home. He and Yazuha have a great, loving marriage and when they are home, they're spending that time with their kids, and visiting them during school festivals. He's a very loving father and at least understands that his uninvolvement because of work is what made the twins so lonely and dependant on each other.

If he were home more often, I think he and the twins would have had a great relationship. I like to think they bond during the twins adult life and is very doting on his baby daughter.

1: Akira Morinozuka: The best dad. His work allows him to be very involved in his son's life. He was older when he became a father with Takashi so he was very mature and responsible and so doting when he and Satoshi was younger. I suspect his children were planned because he genuinely wanted to be a father, not just for an heir. I mean overall he's a fantastic father. You just have to look at him to think"wow that's a dad right there." He even looks like a dad.

He actually looks more like a grandpa but he would also be a fantastic grandpa.

#ouran dads #hayato hitachiin #yuzuru suoh #yoshio ootori #ouran high school host club #ouran #akira morinozuka #yorihisa haninozuka #ryoji fujioka

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yannasunflower · 4 years ago

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dust to dust | chapter two

chapter one | chapter two

ao3

You don't know what makes you save Kuroo Tetsurou's life. All you know is there is no world to save anymore, but damn if you're just stupid enough to try.

Genre: hurt/comfort/romance/angst Rating: Mature, subject to change (gore, violence) Kuroo x fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

hey everyone! here's chapter two, as promised. this fic is also cross-posted to AO3, where i'm under the same username. linked above as well! next chapter, action picks up, plot picks up, and we get more Kuroo, promise. enjoy, and as always, please reblog, like, and comment <3

Nobody ever told you how absolutely boring a zombie apocalypse could be.

Your ragtag group of survivors have scavenged what entertainment they can - books and gym equipment, even a few board games. People like Suga and Takeda keep busy with the children, teaching them to read and garden and how to survive if mommy and daddy never come back for them.

You open one lazy eye as a gaggle of them stumble after Suga, hanging on to his every word.

You’re not sure how the two men handle placing a long knife in a child’s chubby hand, fingers barely able to grip it,and showing them how to strike right at a nighstalker’s heart, fast and deep. Their giggles float through the air and the sound is almost dreamlike and if you keep your eyes closed, you can pretend this is a movie and when you open them, the credits will roll and you can go home.

Others tend to the elderly, of which there are only three in your group. You try to keep them comfortable and as far from danger as possible. But your body constantly prickles with the knowledge that they aren’t just vulnerable - they are a vulnerability. A hole in the brick wall you are attempting to build around this little community.

The healthy and fit young people patrol and take rotations on the watchtowers. Teenagers help with the lessons. Takeda had been firm about this. Once a kid turned seventeen, they were allowed to join the patrols, but until then, they stayed sequestered away.

It was almost comical, telling a tall, strong, angry Tobio that he had to mind the children. He towers over you, but he had bent to your will after a brief glaring contest. And then a week later, Shoyo had bounded into everyone’s hearts, including his, and the pair were inseparable.

Kiyoko, for her part, had taken one look at Yachi, shivering at Hinata’s side, and adopted her, sweeping her under a protective wing and keeping her there.

For people like you, who have no “bedside manner” as Kiyoko puts it, there are chores and day to day mini emergencies to keep you busy. Somehow, in the months since the world finally decided to fall apart, you have become mediator and negotiator. It’s an unlikely role; you can see your mother’s arched brow if she was still alive to see you now.

You barely have the patience for grocery shopping.

She would have laughed, elbowing your father, who would have made a valiant attempt at a straight face.

These are useless memories but you allow yourself to indulge for a moment. You have nothing better to do. Lunch is cooking, inventory has been completed, the guard rotation is set for the next two weeks. Ukai had waved you off this morning when you finally managed to corner him, complaining about your ceaseless energy and the “mad glint” in your eye. His words.

“That look means trouble for me,” he had growled, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Go to your cell and get some sleep for the love of anything you find holy.” Without another word, the man had leaned against a wall, put his feet up on his desk, and closed his eyes. A clear dismissal. You tried not to huff but you definitely stomped a little bit on the way out.

You don’t know how to tell him that staying in your cell, with your eyes closed, is inviting the living nightmares. You don’t know how to tell anyone, really, that you are just as haunted as this prison, as Daichi’s eyes.

That the only holy thing left in this world is fear and if you succumb to that, you’ll never move again.

You let a sigh tumble out of you. Forcibly, you shove your thoughts in another direction.

It had been a week since you brought home your latest stray. Kuroo had spent the first three days doing little else but sleep and eat. Daichi has taken to walking him around the Pit every day, explaining the way things work, and Suga showed him his pride and joy just yesterday. Kuroo had been suitably impressed by the garden, if the generous second and third helpings Suga thought he was sneaking to him at dinnertime were anything to go by.

The man has filled out nicely. He looks less skeleton, more human after sleep and hot food. You had peeked in on him in the grey of dawn that morning after Daichi not-so-subtly hinted that Kuroo had been asking about you.

He sleeps curled up on his side, hair falling against his cheek. In another world, you would have taken a picture.

Kiyoko tells you that the men like him, that Tanaka has stopped regarding him with all the wariness of a stray cat, and that she’s pretty sure Yachi has a crush on him.

You open your eyes into a blazing afternoon, unsurprised to see the subject of your thoughts stretching in the courtyard, the weak sunlight rippling over his bare arms. His black hair is messy as ever and you are struck all over again by how tall he is.

Tobio got a new babysitter, you think with no small amount of amusement. The gangly teenager needs someone to keep him in line and frankly, you don’t have the time and Hinata is just as likely to suggest some stupid shit for them to get into as he is.

You are still stretched out like a cat on a bench, letting the sun warm you, half-hoping it will lull you into a nap.

It’s boredom, more than anything, that makes you turn your head toward Kuroo.

“If you’d like to get some exercise, we have equipment. I’m sure Noya can show you,” you call.

Kuroo jumps and swivels to look at you, eyes wide and so, so dark. You look away. Something about him is like staring at the sun; too long, and your eyes burn.

“Didn’t see you there,” he admits easily, sauntering over to your bench. You eye his approach, noting that he really must be feeling a lot better. His movements are more fluid now, lean muscles becoming apparent on his shoulders.

Daichi has blessed every woman, and a few men, in the Pit by finding Kuroo a pair of grey joggers and a muscle tank top for everyday wear.

“I don’t do well with sitting still,” he says, leaning over you. His head casts you in shadow, blotting out the sun. “This is something I think you can understand.”

Up close, you can see that the shadows beneath his eyes are retreating gradually. His smile looks less like a grimace today.

You hum, swinging your legs over the bench and sitting up. Blood rushes from your head and you lean back against your palms. Kuroo lowers himself to sit next to you.

“Daichi forces me to limit my rotations on the guard towers and patrols,” you answer. “When we first found this place and cleaned it out, I was working overtime and made myself sick. Him and Kiyoko have been conspirators against me ever since.”

Your fingers thrum against your thigh as you say this. You feel more than see Kuroo’s eyes on them.

“They love you,” he points out, a little unnecessarily.

You snort.

“Love is expensive nowadays and everyone in the Pit is broke.”

“You love them back even more.”

You glare at him but he is just looking at you, tracing the planes of your face. A frown tugs at your lips.

“How are you feeling?”

Kuroo rolls his shoulders experimentally, stretching his arms above his head.

“Better,” he affirms. “More like myself.”

“A nosy busybody who talks like a grandpa?”

“Exactly.”

He is grinning now and you have to fight to keep yourself from returning the expression.

The bruises on his face are yellow now. You estimate it will only take a couple more weeks of regular meals for his face to fill out and his skin to look youthful again. You don’t bother asking him how long he had been alone, what happened to his family. None of that matters now. The apocalypse is a great equalizer.

“I talked to Takeda and Kiyoko this morning,” you begin, leaning your head back and closing your eyes against the sun. “They agreed to give you another week before putting you on guard rotation.”

“I would appreciate that. I want to earn my keep, however I can.”

A ghost of a smile dances across your lips.

“You’re just bored,” you tease. It’s been a long time since you felt sleepy and loose enough to tease anyone.

“You say that now, but newbies get the shittiest schedule possible,” you warn him, unsure why you’re telling him this. “Be prepared. Once you’re back to top form, we’ll discuss sending you on patrols for medicine and expanding that garden of Suga’s.”

There’s silence but it’s comfortable, easy. You let yourself enjoy it for just a few moments before standing, opening your eyes and offering Kuroo a full smile and your hand.

As he shakes it, looking only a little confused, you wonder how much longer he would have survived on his own in the city.

“Welcome to the Pit,” you say before turning on your heel and walking away.

~~~

Nightmares are as plentiful as soil on Suga’s fingers.

A sliver of moonlight is all that keeps you from sinking into the darkness, skin clammy, chest heaving. Your fingers twist into the sheets. A prayer is whispered that you didn’t scream this time. You can’t bear the thought of Kiyoko running again, feet bare, knife in hand and tears glistening on her cheeks. Her utter, pure relief haunted you for a month.

It would be so easy, you think, to never get up again.

Kiyoko would care for you. Daichi would stop by, every day, and update you. Ukai would read to you, probably, or nap in your cell, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

These are the thoughts that force you up, out, stumbling into your worn boots, shrugging a jacket on.

Takeda finds you in the office hours later, hunched over inventory reports in his neat handwriting, hair pulled back. He puts a pot of coffee on and hands you a steaming mug, holding a hand out for the report you’re struggling to understand.

“Winter is coming,” you sigh as you hand it over. He doesn’t ask about the shadows beneath your eyes, doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s barely six-thirty in the morning and you’ve clearly been awake for a number of hours.

A smile quirks at his lips.

“I didn’t know Tanaka managed to get the TV’s up and running,” he jokes. You wave your hand in a vague gesture, taking another sip of the liquid heaven in your hand.

“We need to get winter supplies,” you answer and that sobers him up. He nods, slowly, eyes roving the paper.

“Winter isn’t for over six months,” he reminds you. An eyebrow is raised. A teacher, waiting for an explanation. In moments like these, you see the high school teacher that you’d found barricaded in his office, babbling a stream of students’ names that Daichi had quietly whispered as your group cut them down, reading them off their uniforms.

On Takeda’s worst nights, as you guarded the door to his cell, you’d heard those same names, apologies and nonsensical gibberish streaming from his mouth as he grappled with his dreams and feverish tremors.

You stand, stretching, before stepping in front of a map of the city that Suga had snagged on one of his patrols. It’s huge, taking up an entire wall. Little markers litter the paper, different colors, and you run your finger over the pale blue ones in the northeast corner.

“There’s a limited supply of winter clothes in the city. I don’t want other groups getting to it first - we don’t need that bastard holding it over our heads when we have food and they don’t,” you remind him. Your arms cross behind your back automatically. “With the snows, we’ll need snow boots. The kids need jackets and thermals. We need to completely outfit the prison’s entire water supply system to last through snowstorms. We need hot water before then or half of us are going to be too sick, and the other half will be taking care of them. We need medicine, too.”

You tick off each item on your fingers, pausing to consider if you’ve missed something. You’re probably missing ten somethings and you struggle to see what they are. You need more coffee.

Takeda is twenty-nine, but when you turn to look at him finally, he seems sixty, glasses dangling from his fingers, nose bridge pinched between his knuckles.

He mutters something suspiciously close to a curse under his breath before opening his eyes.

“You’re right,” he admits. “We’re going to need at least seven months to prepare.”

The morning is a whirlwind. You send the youngest children, always the earliest risers, to fetch Daichi and Kiyoko, both much more bright-eyed than they have any right to be. Takeda drags a yawning Ukai into the office moments later and Tanaka slouches after them. Suga pokes his head in to give you a little wave and knowing smirk that everyone else finds nonthreatening before ushering the children to the cafeteria for their breakfast.

You’re positive you’re not imagining the pale pink coating Daichi’s cheeks.

After explaining the situation, everyone sucks in a collective breath.

Tanaka never sits and always faces a door. From his corner of the room, he glowers at the map.

“Well, fuck,” he neatly summarizes. You nod your appreciation for his conciseness.

“We need to get a hold of meat,” Ukai points out. A something you had missed.

You grab a marker and the portable whiteboard Takeda had grabbed a few weeks ago. In neat characters, you begin documenting everything thrown around the table.

“Raising livestock will be another way to keep the little ones busy.”

“We can’t ask people to shower in cold water during winter, that’s cruel.”

“Tanaka, is there any way to get the heating system up and running by then?”

“What about air conditioning? We have to get through the summer to get to winter, and heat is just as likely to kill us.”

“If other groups realize what we’re doing, we could be in trouble.”

A headache is brewing somewhere behind your temples and you bite back a groan. Kiyoko pushes a cool water bottle into your hand and you know she isn’t fooled for one second.

“I think we’re missing someone here,” Kiyoko points out mildly after what feels like an eternity of circular conversation. All eyes turn to her and she’s unruffled, fingers still wrapped around her mug.

“Kuroo could be a huge help to a lot of this,” she continues. “I’m sure he can help Tanaka and Noya with everything on their list, and we need more able-bodied men on the patrols anyway. He can help us with medicine, our food supply, all of it.”

A furtive glance in Tanaka’s direction is not encouraging. He’s glowering, eyes hooded.

“We barely know him,” Tanaka hisses. You have to privately agree.

“We barely know each other,” Ukai shoots back. “We’ve been here, what, three months?”

“He hasn’t even been on a patrol yet and you want him helping us make important decisions that affect everyone, including the kids?”

“That’s unfair, and you know it, Tanaka,” Takeda says patiently, but somehow reproachfully at the same time. “Kuroo has been in no condition to patrol. The man was emaciated.”

Takeda continues, levying everyone at the table with a stern face.

“We all trust each other now because we took the gamble and brought people in and allowed time to prove it. It was always a risk, and it will always be a risk, but we can’t let that stop us. What we’re doing here is more important than just working together to survive.”

It’s a flowery, nice sentiment, to be expected from a literature teacher, and you barely hold back a snort at Ukai’s warning look.

“None of this matters,” you cut in. “Takeda’s right. And so is Kiyoko. He could be a huge help to you specifically, Tanaka, and he’s getting better every day but we have to give him time before he’s physically ready. You saw him when we brought him in – he was skin and bones.”

Tanaka subsides into grumbling acceptance and you take it as a win.

Daichi returns with Kuroo in tow just minutes later, and if Kuroo is at all confused, he doesn’t show it. He folds himself into a chair, all long limbs and wide feet.

The problems are laid out on the table again. You watch as Kuroo absorbs it, eyes narrowed, flicking sometimes to the map on the wall.

“Frankly, I wish we were in an apartment building,” Tanaka reveals after an hour of debating the best way to acquire livestock.

You sigh, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eyes hard enough to see colors. You know it’s not Tanaka’s fault, that he’s saying out loud something you’d privately thought before. That the electrical systems in apartment buildings would be much easier for him to coax into submission.

But you’re tired. Kiyoko is rubbing the old wound on her shoulder again, Ukai’s fingers are tapping a loud rhythm on the table, and Daichi is watching you lose your mind with that same placid smile in place.

“I wish the apocalypse didn’t happen and we all didn’t have nightmares every damn night, but here we are,” you snap. “I wish we were all cozy in furnished apartments right now, too, and I wish we didn’t have to talk about these things.”

You wish the children didn’t have to hold knives, you wish Suga would stop forcing you to eat, you wish you could forget your mother’s laugh, you wish and wish and wish.

Tanaka’s mouth is open and Daichi is sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. Kuroo’s eyes are expressionless and he just looks like he’s waiting, though for what, you can’t even begin to guess.

You find that you don’t have the energy to regret the words, so you barrel on.

“The apartment buildings are stacked with nightstalkers. It would take weeks to clear even one out, and we would lose people. Guaranteed. We lost one person clearing this prison out and that —”

You’re cut off by a strange choking noise in your throat. The memory of Ennoshita is sweet, cloying, poisonous. Takeda looks pale and strained at the mention of it. His last student.

Your voice is pitched low when you manage to blink away traitorous tears. The sound of your chair scraping is loud and grating against your ears as you stand. They all watch you silently. Waiting.

“Ennoshita is buried here,” you say and the surprise on their faces is almost insulting. “So is Ayasaki’s little girl. We have a life here, one we built and fought for. The kids love it here, it’s as safe as it can get, and it’s isolated from the turf wars in the city. You know why we chose this place, you were part of the vote that decided it, Tanaka.”

Deep breath in. Out.

“I know I’m asking for a lot, but it’s necessary, and we’re all up to the task simply because we have to be.”

As far as motivational speeches go, you’re sure this is ranked pretty low. But Daichi straightens and Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming as he stares at you. Kiyoko is almost smiling and you take that into both of your hands and hold on for dear life.

“I have to protect them.”

Everyone in the room opens their mouth at pretty much the same time but Ukai beats them all to the punch with his lazy drawl.

“You’re a moron,” he sneers. “An absolute idiot if you think you’re doing any of this alone. Now run along and get some breakfast before Suga drags you there by your hair.”

~~~

It doesn’t surprise you when Kiyoko finds you later, on the roof, scribbling half-mad ideas into a plain notebook. She always knows where to find you.

“I think you should stay home tomorrow,” she says without preamble. The word home nearly sends you stumbling off the roof.

“Why? Am I dying and I don’t know it?” you ask dryly. The look she levels at you nearly makes your heart stop.

“We agreed to let Kuroo go tomorrow,” she explains, settling into the spot next to you, peering curiously at the notebook in your hand. “But you haven’t been sleeping and we can’t afford to lose you because you’re too tired to stand properly.”

You scowl. Damn the four eyes. Her and Takeda know too much for their own good.

“I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively. “I’ll get some rest tonight, promise.”

She let’s the matter go, which is a point for you, but you watch warily as she opens her mouth again.

“Tanaka is looking for you.”

A sigh.

“I should apologize.”

“That’s what he said.”

A laugh, short and barking, escapes you. Kiyoko smiles at the sound.

“We’re all such idiots.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #zombie!au #haikyuu zombie!au #this is purely self indulgent #kuroo x you #kuroo angst #my writing #yanna speaks #text #fanfiction

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thanksjro · 4 years ago

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Dark Cybertron Chapter 12: That’s the Power of Love, Babeyyyyy

Thank fucking god, it’s almost over.

Our issue opens up with Ironhide deadnaming Slug, like the out-of-touch grandpa that he is. Everything is going to shit, the whole city’s covered in lasers like the world’s worst rave, and someone thought it was a good idea to let Swerve have a gun.

As the Ammonites try to murder everyone in sight, Whirl and Arcee have a little chat about how Whirl’s seemingly caused every problem ever in the last four million years.

…Whirl, you have been keeping up with your appointments with Rung, right? Like, I know he’s not the best therapist around by any stretch of the imagination, but surely something would be better than nothing in this case.

On the Lost Light, Hound, Perceptor, and Mainframe are keeping track of how many Ammonites have been killed. Everyone is extra British in this bit. Perceptor basically calls Hound a fucking idiot, because even with all the guys who’ve been taken out, there are still literally BILLIONS of these suckers running around.

Which seems a little overkill to me, but what do I know? Warcrimes aren’t my specialty.

Meanwhile, in the Mystical City of Making Science Cry, Starscream apparently knows what cosplay is, and takes a potshot at Jhiaxus for stealing his look. Metalhawk explains how the Ammonites got here in the first place, which, y’know, is cool. Love me some technobabble exposition.

I don’t actually love it.

I’m sorry for lying.

I WOULD ALSO LIKE FOR METALHAWK TO PUT A STOP TO THIS

BUT WE’VE GOT ANOTHER 19 PAGES TO GO

SO I GUESS LIFE JUST ISN’T FUCKING FAIR RATTRAP

While Metalhawk contemplates ending the comic event early, Starscream is getting his ass kicked by an old man who spent the war sitting on his butt in the Dead Universe.

Over with Team -Imus, Brainstorm’s taking a breather after getting Robertsed at the end of last issue. Ultra Magnus makes a pun, I guess to cope with the fact that he doesn’t understand anything that’s going on. Cyclonus is still dying, but this isn’t about him. Nightbeat is also dying. Oh, and Kup. Turns out, being a part of the Dead Universe is sort of an issue when you’re out of it.

Even though Galvatron was fine. And Jhiaxus. And Nova Prime, for the little bit he was out of it.

I feel like this plot point kinda just shows up when it’s convenient.

Anyway.

Brainstorm has shit in his lab that can help them not die, but he and Skids are gonna need help to get all these undead morons back to the Lost Light, which means that only two folks would be going to face Shockwave in this final confrontation.

Speaking of Shockwave, he’s gone full Burning Justice with that time drive shoved into his chest, as he makes fun of Megatron for being a dumb stupid idiot who gave him everything he needed to end the universe. He reveals himself to be a nihilist, claiming that a Cybertron which only exists for existence’s sake- and without any form of life- is the ultimate in perfection. Also, he’s a communist now. A nihilistic communist.

Just… whatever, Shockwave.

Megatron’s annoyed by all this posturing- which, same- but enough about him, it’s time for Ultra Magnus and Optimus Prime drop down from… somewhere… to kick some ass. Shockwave promptly shoots Magnus, and is about to do the same to Optimus, when this starts happening:

Huh. Wonder what all that’s about.

Shockwave snaps out of his stupor and proceeds to fire on Optimus, yelling about being the only thing that exists as he does.

Over with Rodimus and friends, Cyclonus is bitching about Rodimus not leaving him behind so he could go fight Shockwave. Nightbeat, who I guess just doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, tells Cyclonus to quit it, because they all know that he just misses his boyfriend. Cyclonus, though blatantly annoyed, doesn’t actually refute this claim. Brainstorm wonders aloud just how this gaggle of assholes managed to escape the Dead Universe without murdering each other.

Rodimus explains that when they heard the singing at Swerve’s, it proved they could still get out of the Dead Universe, so they desecrated Nova Prime’s corpse to make a space bridge. Brainstorm became a doorway, because he’s very nearly dead, and oh yeah, he should probably fix that when they get back to the lab, and also reconsider his lab safety protocols.

The gang reaches the outside world, and Rodimus is given a chance to spout off his personal philosophies.

Fantastic, you funky little man.

Then everyone looks up in the sky and sees some real bullshit.

Hey, Cahill? I just wanna talk, man. Just wanna talk about this boobie Windblade you’ve cursed my eyes with.

Back over with Jhiaxus and Starscream, Jhiaxus just cannot shut up. He just keeps waxing poetic about how smart Shockwave’s plan is. I couldn’t even tell you what the guy’s saying- my eyes glaze over whenever he gets a speech bubble.

Metalhawk at this point has had quite enough of all this nonsense, and decides he’s gonna throw himself into the equation that allows the Dark Cybertron prophecy to manifest.

By killing himself.

He just fuckin’… tosses himself into some heavy machinery and explodes, and that throws all the ores out of wack, since he’s got the Resurrection Ore in him. Jhiaxus is distracted by a man just straight-up dying in the same room as him, and this give Starscream the opening he needs to stab Jhiaxus in the gut.

Then the background just straight up disappears, as Rattrap lets everyone know that it’s all still going to shit, but in the opposite direction.

Really not sure about this art direction, but whatever. I’m over it.

Back outside, all the Ammonites are exploding. All of them. Billions of the little suckers, just popping off like fire crackers. The environment’s going to be ruined at this rate. Metroplex is having a great fucking time. Happy for him.

The Lost Light calls the ladies inside Metroplex’s brain room, and lets them know that they’re gonna break up Monstructor like the mediocre boy-band he is, though not without Mainframe being difficult beforehand. The ladies jump out and enter the fray, admiring Arcee’s style as they do.

Back with Rodimus and pals, Nightbeat’s being fucking cryptic, and Brainstorm gets to work making it so folks aren’t dying from being in the wrong universe, after a little prodding to his ego.

Back in Shockwave’s Super Saiyan Energy Bubble of Pure Unadulterated Logic, Shockwave says that’s he’s fucking ripped, and Optimus couldn’t beat him in a fight. Clearly, this means we’ll have to use our words to resolve this, like adults. Optimus isn’t too sure about that option, however.

I mean, do I even have to- Optimus, that’s GAY.

I have the sneaking suspicion that Roberts wrote this portion of the script. Y’know, just given his track record.

Then Megatron blasts Shockwave with his fusion cannon, and makes fun of Optimus for being a sentimental fool.

The fact that “Dark Cybertron” is telling me this makes me so mad. Like, you don’t get to talk, Exposition Central.

It’s at this point that Megatron drops a bomb on everyone present- he’s done with being a Decepticon. He’s gonna be an Autobot now.

See, ol’ Megsy here has seen the error of his ways- that by fighting the Senate, he allowed them to change him into a murderous warlord. To prove how much of a nice guy he is, he’s ripped the Autobrand off of Bumblebee’s lifeless body and duct-taped it to his chest.

Which seems a tad disrespectful, but okay.

…Megatron, you do realize that, as the leader of the Decepticons, you could just tell everyone that they need to be nice, and that would more or less be the end of it, right? You could just say “not evil anymore, I want to be loved now”, and everyone would be all “sir yes sir.” This is going to be a PR nightmare, I can already tell. Shockwave certainly seems to agree with me.

I really like this panel structure. Want to say this is the only place it happens, too. It’s just too bad it lives in “Dark Cybertron”.

Shockwave’s not having a good time right now, and he’s convinced that Optimus and Megatron have teamed up just to make him upset so he loses control of the time drive. The two spout off a little Autobot propaganda, and then Shockwave Remembers™.

Shockwave, having had his shadowplay reverse violently and abruptly, is horrified to find what he’s become. Alas, it’s too late for him- the only way to stop the time drive is for Optimus to kill him. Optimus promises to remember who Shockwave was- a callback to the line Shockwave gave him back before his empurata- and then shoots the everloving fuck out of the guy. Megatron helps.

And that’s a series wrap on Shoc-

-holy fucking shit.

The gang high-tails it outta there, IDW Optimus once again proving to be the shittiest version of everyone’s space-dad, as he leaves Bumblebee’s body to be consumed by the Shockwave Singularity. It’s looking pretty hopeless, but luckily none of these bastards can die without fucking up Season 2 of MTMTE, so the Lost Light swoops in to save the day.

Down below, Soundwave and his gaggle of small children and animals watch as the Lost Light fucks off into the distance. Soundwave’s having a time and a half, as he realizes with his balls-to-the-wall senses that Megatron’s joined the Autobots. Galvatron shows up to try to work out a deal. We won’t be seeing where this goes, because that’ll be covered later on.

The Lost Light lands in front of Metroplex, and over to the left of that are Rattrap and Starscream, climbing over the wreckage of the city. Rattrap tries to warn Starscream that things are gonna be tough, now that the Dark Cybertron prophecy has come to pass, but Starscream isn’t really having it. He’s gotten very paranoid, likely due to stress, and tells Rattrap to not play this game, because he’s the best player who’s ever lived. Then the Lost Light gang shows up and we get this face:

Sure.

Later on, Megatron and Optimus are hanging out in the Sky Roller, not-talking, until Megatron tells Optimus to get on with it, since the issue’s about to end. Megatron was totally serious about becoming an Autobot. Optimus isn’t really sure what to do with that. I don’t think anyone’s really sure what to do with that, to be honest.

Megatron, in turn, asks Optimus if he really could look past all the bullshit Shockwave pulled in the last several million years, and he gets a non-answer, because addressing your feelings is for losers, clearly. The two exit the ship, and I guess everyone else was just… standing outside waiting for them to talk it out. Weird.

...And with THAT, I am finally released from Comic Event Hell!

If you hear any distant, triumphant screeching right now, that’s likely me.

#transformers #jro #dark cybertron #issue 12 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

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thekillerssluts · 4 years ago

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Will Butler explains how his Harvard degree developed into his second solo album

“Yeah, it’s terrifying,” Will Butler says, pondering how it feels to be releasing music away from the umbrella of Arcade Fire.

“It’s the classic thing about all writers,” he continues. “The creative process makes them wanna puke the whole time they’re writing something, then they read something back and it makes them feel worse, then a year later they read it and think ‘yeah, it’s okay’. It’s a glorious experience, but it really makes your stomach hurt.”

On the one hand Will Butler is well accustomed to this writing process, being a multi-instrumentalist in the Canadian indie-rock band fronted by brother Win - Arcade Fire. But on his own terms, it’s an entirely new process. Butler’s second solo album Generations arrives five years after his debut Policy, a collection that rattled with a ramshackle charm and what he describes now as a ‘consciously very unproduced’ sound. Arcade Fire wound down from their Everything Now tour in September 2018, leaving Butler with the last two years of playtime. Most musicians, particularly those accustomed to big album cycles, set aside their downtime for family or other musical projects. Somehow Butler’s managed to do both while also completing a masters degree in Public Policy at Harvard.

“I went to school for a variety of reasons but there was an artistic side to it too,” he says. “I have always tried to let music and lyrics emerge from the world that I’m in; you fertilise the soil and see what grows. It was a way to better understand where we are, how we got here and what's going on. You know, ‘where am I from? What's going to happen?’” Both of these questions explored in his degree are used as fuel for Generations.

It’s easy to imagine an album by somebody who’s just pursued a Public Policy MSt to form in reams of political commentary, probably set to an acoustic guitar. However, Butler instead engages character portraits soundtracked by a broad range of thrilling sonics. Opener “Outta Here” is shrouded by a monstrous bass that lurks beneath the depths of the instrumentation before bursting out midway through. “Got enough things on my plate without you talking about my salvation,” he screams.

While the cage-rattling “Bethlehem” is mania underpinned by a thrashing guitar and bubbling synths that help lift the track to boiling point.While there’s no current world leaders namechecked or any on-the-nose political commentary across the LP, the angst of its contents is instantly tangible, backed by the intellect of somebody who’s spent the past few years studying the ins and outs of government processes. A perfect combination, you could say.

This fuel was partly discovered through Butler reconnecting with the music that defined his teenage years: namely Bjork, The Clash and Eurythmics. While these influences certainly slip into frame across Generations, they were paired with something of an unlikely muse: “I got into this habit of listening to every single song on the Spotify Top 50 every six weeks,” Butler explains. “So many of them are horrible, terrifying and just awful but there’s something inspiring about how god damn avant garde the shittiest pop music is now. Just completely divorced from any sense of reality - it’s just layers upon layers upon layers - it’s amazing. It’s like Marcel Duchamp making a pop hit every single song.”

We turn from current music to current events. Navigating Covid-19 with his wife and three kids in their home of Brooklyn, a majority of 2020 has been caught up in family time for Butler. “The summer’s been easier because everybody’s outside, whereas in spring it was like ‘it’s family time because we have to lock our doors as there's a plague outside.’” While being surrounded by the trappings of lockdown since his second solo album Generations was completed in March, the album itself wriggles with the spirit of live instrumentation, which at this point seems like some sort of relic from a bygone era."I think eventually rediscovering this album back in the live setting would be amazing - we’re a really great live band, it’s a shame to not be in front of people."

The source of this energy can be traced back to the way the songs came together; they were forged and finessed at a series of shows in the early stages of the project. “It just raises the stakes. You can tell how good or how dumb a lyric is when you sing it in front of a hundred people,” he reflects. “It’s like ‘are you embarrassed because what you’re saying is true?’ or ‘is it just embarrassing?’ It’s a good refiner for that stuff. I think eventually rediscovering this album back in the live setting would be amazing - we’re a really great live band, it’s a shame to not be in front of people.”

Like his day job in Arcade Fire, Butler’s solo live group is something of a family affair - both his wife and sister-in-law feature in the band, alongside Broadway's West Side Story star, and the student of the legendary Fela Kuti drummer, Tony Allen. Together this eclectic mix of musicians conjures an infectious spirit through the raw combination of thundering synths and pedal-to-the-metal instrumentation; an apt concoction indeed for lyrics that are attempting to unhatch the bamboozling questions that surround our current times.

The timing for Butler’s decision to study Public Policy couldn’t have been more perfect, with his course starting in the Fall of 2016. “I was at Harvard for the election which was a really bizarre time to be in a government school, but it was great to be in a space for unpacking questions like ‘my god, how did we get here?!’” he reflects, with a note of mockery in the bright voice.

“I had a course taught by a professor named Leah Wright Rigueur. The class was essentially on race in America but with an eye towards policy. The class explored what was going to happen in terms of race under the next president. The second to last week was about Hilary Clinton and the last week was about Donald Trump. We read riot reports - Ferguson in 2015, Baltimore in 2016, the Detroit uprisings in the ‘60s and Chicago in 1919 - it's certainly helping me understand the last 5 years, you know. Just to be in that context was very lucky.”

As we’ve seen with statues being toppled, privileges being checked and lyrics of national anthems being interrogated in recent months, history is a complex, labyrinthine subject to navigate requiring both ruthless self-scrutiny and a commitment to the long-haul in order to correct things. The concept of Generations shoots from the same hip employing character portraits to engage in the broader picture.

The writing, at times, is beamed from a place of disconnect (“had enough of bad news / had enough of your generation”), from a place of conscious disengagement (“I’m not talking because I don’t feel like lying / if you stay silent you can walk on in silence”) and from a place of honest self-assessment (“I was born rich / three quarters protestant / connections at Harvard and a wonderful work ethic”).

“I’m rooted in history to a fault,” he says. “My great grandfather was the last son of a Mormon pioneer who’d gone West after being kicked out of America by mob violence. He wanted to be a musician which was crazy - he got 6 months in a conservatory in Chicago before his first child was born. He always felt like he could have been a genius, he could of been writing operas but he was teaching music in like tiny western towns and he had all these kids and he made them be a family band and they were driving around the American west before there were roads in the deserts - literally just driving through the desert! He would go to these small towns and get arrested for trying to skip bills and just live this wild existence.”

Butler’s grandma, meanwhile, was just a child at this point. She went on to become a jazz singer with her sisters and married the guitar player Alvino Rey. “The fact that me and my brother are musicians is no coincidence,” he smiles. “It’s not like I decided to be a musician, it’s down to decisions that were made at the end of the 19th century that have very clearly impacted where I am today. The musical side of it is very beautiful, it is super uncomplicated and a total joy to have a tradition of music in our family...but also in the American context - which is the only context I know - it's also these very thorny inheritances from the 19th century and beyond that influence why my life is like it is.

“For me it’s like, ‘I made my money because my grandpa was a small business owner’ or ‘my grandpa was a boat builder and got a pretty good contract in WW2 and was able to send his kids to college’. Both of which are so unpoetic and unromantic but it is an important thing to talk about, that's a personal political thing to talk about; there's horrifying and beautiful aspects there.”

The lament of “I’m gonna die in a hospital surrounded by strangers who keep saying they’re my kids” on “Not Gonna Die” could well be croaked by somebody on the tail end of a life lived on the American Dream. At times, Butler plays the characters off against each other, like on “Surrender,” which chronicles two flawed characters going back and forth played by Butler’s lead vocals and his female backing singers that undermine his memory; “I remember we were walking” is cut up with the shrug of “I dunno” and “maybe so”. “I found having the backing voices there gave me something to play with,” he explains. “Either something threatening to the main character or something affirming to the main character, just providing another point of view.”

Elsewhere, “I Don’t Know What I Don’t Know” explores the feeling of being unsuitably equipped to unravel the complexities that surrounds us day-to-day. “The basic emotion of that song is very much ‘I don’t know what I can do’ which is an emotion we all have,” he ponders. “There’s also the notion that follows that, like ‘maybe don’t even tell me what to do because it’s going to be too overwhelming to even do anything’.”

Some of these portraits materialised in the aftershows Butler began hosting while on Arcade Fire’s Everything Now tour which found him instigating conversations and talks by local councilman, politicians and activists on local issues. “On some of the good nights of the aftershow town halls, you’d feel that switch away from despair and into action,” he says smiling. “The step between despair and action is possible, that sentiment isn’t spelled out lyrically on the record but it’s definitely there spiritually.”

“I learned anew what a treasure it is to have people in a room. Getting humans in a room can be absurd. And we were having from 5,000 to 15,000 people in a room every night, most of them local. I’m very comfortable with art for art’s sake; I think art is super important and it’s great people can like music that's not political. It was sort of like ‘well we’re here and I know a lot of you are thinking about the world and you’re thinking about what a shit show everything is. You want to know what we can do and I also want to know what we can do!’ So I put on these after shows.”"The dream lineup would be to have a local activist and a local politician talking about a local issue because that’s the easiest way to make concrete change."

Butler would find a suitable location near the Arcade Fire gig through venue owners who were often connected to the local music and comedy scenes to host these events. “The dream lineup would be to have a local activist and a local politician talking about a local issue because that’s the easiest way to make concrete change. Arguably, the most important way is through the city council and state government. The New York state government is in Albany, New York. The shit that happens in Albany is all super important so I wanted to highlight that and equip people with some concrete levers to pull.

“In Tampa we had people who were organizing against felon disenfranchisement, like if you’ve been convicted of a felon you couldn’t vote in Florida, and something absurd like 22% of black men in Florida couldn’t vote and there were people organising to change that - this was in 2018 - and you could just see people being like ‘holy shit, I didn't even know this was happening!’

“These were not topics I’m an expert in - it’s like these are things that are happening. The thought was trying to engage, I’m sad to not be doing something similar this Fall, I mean what a time it would have been to go around America.”

Understandably the looming 2020 election is on Butler’s radar. “It doesn't feel good,” he sighs. “I’ve never had any ability to predict, like 2 weeks from now the world could be completely different from what it is today. There was always a one-in-a-billion chance of the apocalypse and now it's like a one-in-a-million chance which is a thousand times more likely but also unlikely. It’s going to be a real slog in the next couple of years on a policy side, like getting to a place where people don’t die for stupid reasons, I’m not even talking about the coronavirus necessarily just like policy in general. Who knows, it could be great but it seems like it's going to be a slog.”

There’s a moment on the closing track “Fine”, a stream-of-consciousness, Randy Newman-style saloon waltz, where Butler hits the nail on the head. “George [Washington], he turned to camera 3, he looked right at me and said...I know that freedom falters when it’s built with human hands”. It’s one of the many lyrical gems that surface throughout the record but one that chimes with an undeniable truth. It’s the same eloquence that breaks through as he touches on the broad ranging subjects in our conversation, always with a bright cadence despite the gloom that hangs over some of the topics.

The live show is without a doubt Arcade Fire’s bread and butter. While Butler questions how realistic the notion of getting people in packed rooms in the near future is, he reveals the group are making movements on LP6. “Arcade Fire is constantly thinking about things and demoing, it's hard to work across the internet but at some point we’ll get together. It probably won’t be much longer than our usual album cycle,” he says.

You only have to pick out one random Arcade Fire performance on YouTube to see Butler’s innate passion bursting out, whether it’s early performances that found him and Richard Reed Parry adorning motorbike helmets annihilating each other with drumsticks to the 1-2-3 beat of “Neighbourhood #2 (Laika)” or the roaring “woah-ohs” that ascend in the anthem of “Wake Up” every night on tour. It’s an energy that burns bright throughout our conversation and across Generations.

https://www.thelineofbestfit.com/features/interviews/arcade-fires-will-butler-new-solo-record-generations

#Arcade Fire #generations #will butler #interview #hq

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buttercupsanddreams · 4 years ago

Text

(this is a joke post, please dont take this seriously)

the tma i hate jurgen leitner copypasta but end roll

KANTERA END ROLL?

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING KANTERA END ROLL GOD DAMN FOOL MEDICINE MAKING DUST EATING DRAGON BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT SUICIDAL WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN GRANDPA MOTHERFUCKING KANTERA END ROLL

STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT KANTERA END ROLL I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY IS HE SO FUCKED UP WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST HAIR GET AWAY FROM ME if i wanted to get into heaven and god said kanteras waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down

if i have to deal with kantera speaking one lne in person in game not only will i close the window i will delete my saves out of spite and have to replay the entire game again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned or on screen

i dont even know why i hate him so much. he sells medicine but i am just mad because i am angy

he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some shithead who convinced a kid to kill him ill go ham

BETTER have killed a man cuz if he didnt Im going to make him paypal.com/IFuckingHateKanteraEndRoll

day not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be his shop and I lost it

where the fuck is kantera end roll if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt

crusty grandpa talking man ill punch kantera and his sad frail dragon man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is a note he kept on him at all times simply says Now You Fucked Up in japanese

im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point

i hope theres a date given for when kantera died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone

everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who did so many fucked up if true things

#end roll #end roll (game)

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lovelyirony · 5 years ago

Note

55. “Just smile. I really need you to smile right now.” Tony and Sharon

Sharon is known for being the cousin that mediates most family drama. She’s the one who calms down the arguments that are from heated political debates, drags grandpa away before he can make a comment about the newest girlfriend introduced.

She’s the mediator, always there with a kind smile and a positive attitude.

So Tony’s a little surprised when she joins SHIELD, even though she takes classes for dance, language, and marksmanship. He’s always thought of SHIELD as a super-secret agency filled with stoic people and Aunt Peggy, who takes everything seriously and makes a super bad sweet potato casserole that no one eats and they all take turns throwing it away when Sharon distracts her.

Sharon’s always good at distraction. Tony knows this, has known it since he was twelve and she was nine and she managed to get the last of the pie that he had served himself.

But she could never keep a secret from him, and she knows that. She doesn’t even try to hide it when she comes to his apartment because she still lives close to her parents and she can’t bear them to see the stitches in her thigh.

“Mission gone wrong,” she says, voice harsher.

“Where at?” Tony asks.

“Just local. A couple of bad guys in the wrong part of town.”

“Too close to politics?”

“Got it in one.”

Tony’s silent because he’s not sure what else to say.

“How can I help?” he asks finally.

“Don’t ask,” Sharon warns, smiling. “It’s all fine.”

“You can say that when you need to get Aunt Josie out of the kitchen when she tries to take over cooking the turkey, not about a secret mission,” Tony says. “Because you have stitches in your thigh and you came to me, who is the Bad Cousin Example for the next two or so generations.”

Sharon smiles.

“And what, am I suppose to pretend you don’t make jokes and make the uncles mad at you to distract from the other cousins that we all know would get it worse?”

"Yes,” Tony says, “you’re supposed to do exactly that. Except not pretend, because I don’t do that out of kindness. I do it because if I have to hear one more damn speech from one of our uncles about ‘the good old days’ I’m going to go feral,” Tony remarks.

Sharon smiles and asks for a beer.

“You’re a baby, barely over twenty-one,” Tony teases, handing her a beer anyway. “But tell me how you beat the bad guys.”

She doesn’t always give specifics with her missions. He’s not expecting her to. But she comes home and she still smiles and he loves that about her.

It’s when he comes home with the taste of sand and blood in his mouth and a defined legacy when she smiles gently and asks whether or not they have time to stop for a burger.

“The shittiest burger imaginable,” Tony says. “Because I’m not going to your fancy place. To Burger King.”

“The hospital!” Pepper yells. “Oh my god Happy, don’t you dare...”

“I’m the one who has to sign your paychecks,” Tony says. “Burger King.”

Sharon gets caught up in something soon after Iron Man is born. He can’t keep a secret from her, but she can keep a secret from SHIELD. He’s depending on that.

And it’s when he gets palladium poisoning and she knows. She’s listened to enough rants about his inventing to know that palladium is dangerous with exposure ratings.

She does not smile. Her lips tremble and her eyes are wide as she crawls closer.

“Please smile for me,” Tony asks, eyes watering. “Please.”

“How can I?” Sharon whispers. “How can I smile when I know you’re dying?”

They sit in silence for a few moments. Tony looks out at a skyline that he’s quite sure he doesn’t have too much longer to see every night.

“Let us help,” Sharon adds quietly.

“And have me owe your company? You guys don’t do anything without a motive,” Tony says.

“I’ll owe them, not you.”

“Fury’s not that stupid,” Tony adds. Sharon looks to him. “I’m not totally clueless. Keep your enemies close and all that.”

“You saying SHIELD is your enemy?”

“No, I’m just saying they’re not on my Christmas mailing list for a reason,” Tony retorts. “I don’t care. They’ll have us both owing debts and cashing in at the most inopportune times.”

“You’re dying.”

“And I can manage,” Tony says harshly. “God knows there are other people who can take over my job, my life. And maybe...maybe this is how it’s meant to be.”

“It’s not,” Sharon says, scowling. “Because you’re Tony, who refuses to eat the gravy every year out of spite because Aunt Angie told you that one day you’d like it and you want to see how long you can go with disliking it and not trying it in front of her. You make robots that are sad when they can’t press an elevator button and then you make sure they can. No one else here is like you, so quit that and start fucking looking. You find different angles, so stop looking at the same ones and start the big picture of your life.”

The Stark Expo. Because of course his old man is still schooling him in some aspects. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth until the coconut and metal hit.

But Sharon smiles, and then he forgets how to do anything but smile back and promise to not make her sit at the kids table for Christmas if she can go.

“Deal,” Sharon says, grinning. “But you have to bring a home-cooked item and make everyone try it.”

“I can cook,” Tony says defensively. “I just don’t keep track of time very well and thus am banned from using family heirlooms.”

“And using stovetops at different houses,” Sharon giggles. “I’ll see you soon. Go kick ass and don’t sass Nick. You know how he hates it.”

“I’m gonna,” Tony responds. “Tell Natasha that the long curls aren’t a good look.”

“I definitely won’t.”

#sharon and tony: a duo #sharon carter #tony stark #sharon and tony are the ultimate cousins who are the closest and bond a lot #loveyirony writes #pepper potts #iron man #agent 13

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theoddcatlady · 6 years ago

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The Grunp

The Grunp was just something my cousins and I made up while at our grandparent’s place. We went up almost every summer for a week or two at a time when we were old enough, and I think we first started telling Grunp stories when I was nine.

The Grunp’s appearance and personality would evolve and change as we got older. The first time we told stories about the Grunp, he was a naked man with one giant eye in the middle of his head. The next year, he was covered in thick, white fur, with empty holes for eyes who walked on all fours and chewed on bones.

The last year we told Grunp stories he’d finally evolved to his final state- a white, furry creature who walked on two legs, smelled like a dumpster, had two blazing orange eyes and a drooling mouth crammed full of dozens of yellowed and rotten teeth. He could climb up walls and had claws half a foot long. He hated the kids that tramped through his forests every summer and plotted to steal one away so he could skin it alive and spit roast it for a delicious meal.

One thing never changed about the Grunp though and that was that he lived in my grandparent’s old barn.

The barn was ridiculously creepy, I’ll admit. It didn’t have any light or electricity out there, hadn’t been used in years either so it was empty other than a few remaining piles of hay and a broken lawnmower. We weren’t allowed to climb into the lofts because Grandma was afraid that the old floor wouldn’t support our weight so we’d fall and break our necks. I climbed up only once because I thought I heard something.

I didn’t see anything other than a dead rat but there was a lot of unexplained sounds in that barn. That’s probably what planted the idea of the Grunp in our heads. Some unexplained monster that lurked just out of sight, full of hatred and salivating at the idea of ripping us to pieces.

Given all this, probably the shittiest thing we could do was send Sissy Sandy into the barn for a night. And that’s exactly what we did.

I was eleven at the time and most of the cousins were about that age too, except for Sandy. Sandy was only six. Unfortunately, she was the only cousin in that age group, but since the rest of us started going to grandma and grandpa’s around that age her parents sent her with us anyway. The closest cousin in age to her was Bobby and he was nine.

You can imagine how we all felt about Sandy. It didn’t help that Sandy was a crybaby. She didn’t like sleeping in the dark, so whoever had the poor luck of bunking with her had to deal with a nightlight. She didn’t like being alone. She hated bugs and if she saw one she’d start screaming like she was being murdered. And she was terrified of The Grunp.

Most of the time we’d manage to ditch her with Grandma, who would play Go Fish and bake cookies with her. But when Grandma took a nap or we didn’t escape fast enough, we’d have to deal with Sandy tagging along. And oh boy, she’d complain about everything. She was too hot, she was too cold. She didn’t want to play near the barn. She didn’t want to play in the backyard. She was hungry. She was thirsty. She was bored.

I mean, typical six year old, but all of us were tired of it. We didn’t help the situation either by constantly teasing and picking on the poor kid. I think Jay was the one who started calling her Sissy Sandy, because well, she was scared of literally everything. I’m not exaggerating when I say that Sandy was probably scared of her own shadow.

It’s probably why we’d tell the most Grunp stories when she was hanging out with us. We’d get increasingly more morbid, talking about how the Grunp liked to peel off the fingernails of his victims and make them into earrings or that he’d use them to pick the flesh of his victims from his teeth. I think one time I even said that he would hang up his living victims in his cave and wait until he was hungry before chopping off their heads and chewing off their faces.

Sandy would go green and squirm, and then when she’d start crying we’d say that the Grunp was going to get her. That would make her run back to Grandma, saying that we were being mean, while we were all laughing our asses off.

Yeah, we were jerks. Poor Sandy. She just wanted someone to play with. And she really tried her best to keep up, she was just too little and we had no intention of playing with a ‘baby’.

I don’t know whose idea was it to play Truth or Dare, but I do remember it was my turn and that Sandy was my target. Sandy had been a pain in the ass all day, tagging along and complaining more than ever, and I’d had it. I asked if she wanted a truth or a dare, and I said if she’d pick dare, she’d get to play with us all she wanted tomorrow and we’d not tell any Grunp stories or call her Sissy Sandy.

Sandy’s eyes lit up as she proclaimed dare. We’d already had a dare where I did the chicken dance or where Jay called his best female friend to tell her he had a crush on her. Surely we’d not pick anything too bad for her, right?

I dared her to spend a whole hour in the barn. Without crying and without screaming. If she chickened out, then she had to spend the rest of the week with Grandma and that she couldn’t follow us.

I’m a monster. There was no worse dare I could’ve picked. The barn was already creepy in the day, I couldn’t have been paid to go out there at night. And if Sandy turned down the dare we really would have doubled down on calling her a sissy and she knew it.

So Sandy dragged her feet out to the barn. Grandma and Grandpa had already gone to bed so there was no one to catch onto our cruel joke. Jay highfived me, Bobby was bending over with laughter, and I was standing proud, thinking I was the most clever kid out there. Mary was already betting that she wouldn’t last five minutes out there as she set the egg timer.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. By thirty minutes, we were all getting bored, we couldn’t hear Sandy crying and she’d yet to come out of the barn. We’d started playing Truth and Dare again and had almost completely forgot about her until the timer dinged.

I was impressed. I yelled out to Sandy that she could come out now, she wasn’t a sissy and that she could play with us tomorrow.

Sandy didn’t respond.

Figuring she’d fallen asleep, I ran out to the barn and poked my head in, calling after her again.

My heart dropped into my stomach when I saw that Sandy was nowhere to be seen. I knew she wouldn’t have climbed into the loft but I climbed up anyway to check. I came back out and everyone was starting to look a little nervous.

“Maybe she’d managed to get past us and went back to bed,” I said, attempting to reassure everyone as we headed back inside.

She wasn’t in bed. She wasn’t in the kitchen, or the basement… not like she’d go down there anyway, it was full of spiderwebs and she hated spiders most of all.

That’s when we realized something was wrong and that it was time to wake up our grandparents. We had to repeat it twice for Grandpa, he’d taken his hearing aids out before bed, but we didn’t tell the truth- we said that Sandy wanted to explore the barn and she’d not come back.

I already felt shitty for what I’d done. I felt even shittier for lying.

Cops swarmed the house, we were all counted up to make sure we were still accounted for, and we stuck to our story- Sandy went to explore the barn, she wanted to prove she wasn’t a sissy. We didn’t make her go out there.

Technically we didn’t, but I wanted to throw up every time I repeated our lie.

It’s when I overheard a conversation with one of the cops and our grandparents that I realized I had gotten my little cousin killed.

They didn’t know I was there. I was in the hall next to the kitchen, about to get a drink of water, and one of the cops was showing my Grandma a picture.

She narrowed her eyes for a few moments before she nodded. “Yes, I think I do know him! He came by a few days ago, asking for a meal, and I fixed him up with some leftovers from lunch and a slice of pie. Saw the kids p… playing… in the backyard...” Grandma went white in the face. “… Oh god, he pointed out Sandy. He… he said she looked like a real sweetie. Oh god, what have I done? What have I done?” Grandma clung onto Grandpa and began to weep.

I sunk to the floor as the cop shook his head. I found out many years later that the man in the picture was a man named Gene Hayes. A child sex offender with a preference of girls that looked like Sandy.

I didn’t know those details back then, but I knew that my little cousin had been kidnapped by a monster.

And he wouldn’t have had a chance if I hadn’t sent Sandy out to the barn alone.

I didn’t sleep that night. I just stared at the ceiling and thought about poor Sandy. How scared she would be and how I might never see her again, how it would be my fault if she never came home, how I’d never be able to face Uncle Ken and Aunt Barbara again. The next morning, before anyone was awake, I put together my next plan of action- I grabbed a baseball bat, made myself a few sandwiches, making sure to make one with grape jelly and to cut the crusts off. That way when I found Sandy she’d get something to eat.

I knew the nearby forests probably better than most of the searchers, I knew all the places people could hide. I knew I could find Sandy.

And I did… just not in the way I expected.

It was getting close to mid-afternoon when I stumbled across Hayes’ campsite. The place was a mess, beer cans piled near a burnt out firepit, muddy magazines scattered about, a small table turned over, sleeping bag crooked.

When I kicked over the sleeping bag, I realized it was soaked in blood and that there was five large slashes through it… and I saw one of Sandy’s pink hairties.

I stumbled back, falling on my ass and crawling back. My baseball bat rolled away. Had a bear gotten to Sandy’s kidnapper? Did it get Sandy?

I heard a twig snap behind me and I turned around to be face to face with The Grunp.

Our final description of him was actually pretty accurate. A bipedal, white furred creature with blood soaked claws and a drooling maw of hundreds of fangs, smelling like death and with hatred in his gaze. His eyes were a shade of yellow-green though- the color of dying grass.

And by his side was Sandy.

One of her pigtails had fallen out but the other was still tied in place. She looked pretty beat up, bruises and scratches on her arms and a busted lip and bloodied chin. She stared at me, almost as if she didn’t quite recognize me.

The Grunp carefully pushed Sandy behind him, shielding her from me. “Are you… his friend?” The Grunp asked.

Another thing that didn’t match our stories- The Grunp could talk. I shook my head no before I dug in my bag. “… Sandy? I brought you your favorite… made sure to cut off the crusts too.” I presented the sandwich, now a little squished from being in my bag all day.

Sandy blinked a few times before she smiled, revealing teeth stained bright red. “No thank you, I already ate.”

“Sandy, you don’t refuse food,” The Grunp patiently explained, taking the sandwich baggie between two of his claws and handing it to her, “You can eat it for dinner.”

Sandy nodded, clutching onto the bag. “Thank you,” She looked back up at the Grunp, “Can we go home now?”

The Grunp leaned down, carefully picking up Sandy as to not catch her on his claws, and set her on his shoulder. “Good day,” He said before he ambled off through the bushes.

And like that, he was gone.

I managed to get home by nightfall, where the search had turned into one for Sandy and me.

All I said before collapsing was, “She’s with The Grunp.”

We’ve never found Sandy. I try not to think about her, but I do, especially at night. I wonder if she’s doing okay. I wonder if she’s happy, if she’s not such a scaredy cat anymore.

And I wonder if she’s eating well.

#horror stories #scary stories #creepypasta #monsters #creative writing #writers on tumblr #my son

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jayfromriverside-blog · 5 years ago

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Comics I read this week (8/26 - 8/30)

Hey anyone and... anyone I guess. For all those looking to get into comics or who are already comics readers but don’t know which books are good, here’s an opinion on just that!

Give it a read, let me know what you think, light some pitchforks, whatever you like:

Justice League #30

I was conflicted reading this week’s issue of Justice League: while I’m really liking the direction that Scott Snyder is taking the story, I’m really getting sick of Jorge Jimenez’s art on the series.

While Jimenez was a breath of fresh air on the “Superman: Rebirth” series with his CG texturized drawing and smooth surfaces, his ultra-stylized and cartoony figures are starting to look more plastic and stretchy as this series goes on. He’s got a bad habit of smoothing over his character’s proportions, which make these heroes that are supposed to be cut and strong look flat and almost doughy. It’s starting to grind on me more as each new issue comes out, and maybe it’s time for an artistic switch-up on this title.

In terms of the story though, this was a good set-up issue for the Justice/Doom war that Snyder and co. have been building up to on this run. We’ve got all the pieces in place: a gathering of forces by both sides; a romp through time which sees the League meeting with both Kamandi and the classic JSA; and everything going awry right from the get-go!

The only thing I’m slightly concerned about storywise is that Catwoman was in the Doom lineup, and with the rekindling of Bat-Cat in the latest Batman issues, I’m hoping this isn’t a portend for another breakup in King’s run. My heart couldn’t take another.

Superman #14

Let me be clear on one thing before I start in: I’m a fan of Brian Michael Bendis. His work on “Ultimate Spider-Man,” “Daredevil,” and “Alias” are some of my favorite comics, and his more recent work with “Naomi,” and “Event Leviathan” has been really good. With all that being said... man, this Superman comic has sucked hard since he took over.

Let’s just start at the story:

It’s felt like Bendis has been really looking forward to getting started on his upcoming run with the new “Legion of Superheros,” which is something to potentially get excited about for the near future. What’s not exciting at all is the realization that this whole Rogol Zar arc has been a poorly thought out lead-in to the Legion’s return. SPOILER WARNING FOR ANYONE WHO WANTS TO READ THIS GARBAGE FIRE: the Legion show up at the end of the issue to invite Jon to join, as a commemoration of the day the United Planets was formed. This is fine, and could be an exciting new direction for Jon that harkens back to the classic comics. BUT did we really have to suffer through weeks of nonsensical story just to get this?

Just to recap this arc: Rogol Zar appears out of nowhere, looking like Lobo, Doomsday and a garbage disposal with a bland imagination all had an orgy and he was the deformed kid that came out of it. This beefed-up piece of blandness comes out of the sky to fuck up Superman cause he heard there were some Kryptonians still alive in the Universe and apparently he’s a space-racist.

Superman struggles against this remnant from the 90s while the worlds shittiest not-dead Grandpa, Jor El, is off in space traumatizing Jon and stressing him out so much he ages up to a teenager.

But it’s ok guys! Jor El knows who Rogol Zar is, they have a connection of sorts! And Rogol Zar caused the destruction of Krypton! But now he’s allied with Jax Ur, and also now Zod maybe? And the Thanagarians are involved? So are the Guardians? Wait, now Rogol Zar is also effected by Kryptonite because he’s a Kryptonian? And now he’s just captured like that, but Thanagar’s under attack, oh wait just kidding it’s not?

Those last 2 plot points literally happened in 3 pages this issue, right after each other. So this story is confusing and non-sensical and ultimately doesn’t mean anything, because the whole point turned out to be that Bendis needed something, some plot device to make it so Superman could say “we can’t have secrets like this tearing apart worlds like Krypton, we need a United Planets.”

None of this crap story is helped by Ivan Reis’ art, which I know some people love, but to me it looks like everything bad with the 90s except with better backgrounds and textures. But even if I didn’t hate his art, his page and panel composition is often confusing, especially during fight sequences, which doesn’t help when the story is confusing to begin with.

After reading this week’s issue, I want nothing more than to die in the garbage fire Bendis has lit and take this whole comic with me.

The Terrifics #19

Shouts out to DC for finally figuring out how to write a Fantastic 4 comic, maybe they can show Dan Slott how it’s done. But seriously, “The Terrifics” has been the exact kind of science-adventure story that needs to be around in comics, as the landscape needs it’s fare share of science-criminals and heroes to balance things out.

First thing to note for this week, the art is great. Max Raynor (first time I’ve seen their work) has a great kind of cartoony playfulness to his characters and line-work, while at the same time keeping the models tight and well detailed.

I’m glad that the writers of the story realized that the Terrifics function best when they’re dealing with light-hearted cross-dimensional adventures, and this new one seems like it’ll be great from the start. In keeping with the “Year of the Villain,” Lex Luthor has made an offer to Bizarro (the one for the HTREA, not the one from the Outlaws), giving him a time-machine device to reek some havoc with.

I don’t want to spoil the issue too much, as if you haven’t read the Terrifics you really should give it a go, but let’s just say that it involves Bizarro at one point destroying Algebra, and a Bizarro Terrifics team known as “The Terribles” breaking through to the main DC dimension to challenge their Terrific rivals.

If you’re looking for something fun, cheesy, but heartwarming and action packed, definitely give the Terrifics a try.

The Flash #77

Look, I’m still not digging this whole “Force War,” or “War of the Forces,” or whatever the Flash team is trying to build up with these new force users. It felt like the DC Creative team was trying to retcon Flash to be more mythical with “Flash: Year One,” pitting the Flash against the Turtle and creating this whole mythology around the Forces of the Universe to make it seem like this clash was inevitable.

But what this has done for me is just make the Flash feel smaller and less special. These forces and the grander narrative behind them have just diminished the Speed force, which was still shrouded in some mystery after all these years in the DC Universe, to just one force, just A force.

There are two silver linings from this week’s issue, one more bittersweet than the other. First off, the art has gotten ten times better than it’s been in weeks. Rafa Sandoval’s pencils are crisp and clean, and though his action feels static sometimes, he’s miles better than what we’ve been seeing for a few months now.

Second, though this Force War already feels like a dud, a cool concept was introduced in a throwaway line. Flash fans, feel free to crucify me, but with the Black Flash’s appearance this week, Commander Cold talked about how he was acting like an anti-body for the Speed Force in trying to eliminate these new force users. If that’s true, it makes the Speed Force almost like a living creature that feel’s like it is under attack. But this also makes me think that, wouldn’t it have been cooler if you had the same motivation for the appearance of the Black Flash, but instead of the Force users, it was Speedsters it was targeting?

What if all of the new Speedsters were putting a strain on the Speed Force, hurting it in some way that awoke the Black Flash? It’d still give Barry a reason to reconcile with Wallace and Avery, but would also replace this Force War with a Speed War? Spitballing here, but that sounds cooler to me.

Ice Cream Man #14

And now we break up the superheroes for something a little more horrific. For anyone who doesn’t know what “Ice Cream Man” is, the best way I can categorize it is a horror anthology series.

The story, setting and characters change from week-to-week, except for one presence: the Ice Cream Man. Even when he’s not in whatever nightmare is being doled out that week, his fingers can be felt all over the story, and they dig into the fears you try to hide and pry them open.

The theme of this week’s story was communication, and maaaaaaaaan does this comic have a way of making you feel depressed and scared all at the same time.

The two main characters are a husband and wife, the former who is deeply dissatisfied and finds escape in crosswords, the latter who is so starved for communication and intimacy that she makes problems out of nothing just to have something to talk with her husband about.

I don’t want to spoil too much, as I think everyone should be reading this book, but things take a turn for the hellish when the husband goes out to buy more crosswords and finds himself trapped in one, while his wife finds out that her delusions may have been true, and worse than she thought.

For long-time readers, the biggest thing from to take away from this issue is that perhaps the Ice Cream Man’s influence is spilling out into the world more and more, and things will only get worse from here.

Spider-Man: Life Story #6

For any fans of Spider-Man, go out and buy this book. Doesn’t matter if you’re a new fan or a hardcore fan, this is a story for anyone who has any love for Spider-Man in any shape. This story isn’t perfect all the way through, but man is it an incredible ride.

For anyone who hasn’t heard of this comic, writer Chip Zdarsky took the gargantuan task of creating one long-form story out of the entire continuity of Spider-Man, from the 1962 till 2019, and showing how this life that we’ve seen Spider-Man live would actually play out in real-time.

This comic took some of the best and worst arcs, from “Kraven’s Last Hunt,” the birth of Venom and “The Superior Spider-Man,” to “The Clone Saga” and the Inheritors (god those pseudo vampires were dumb), and not only makes them work within this different world that Zdarsky has made, but makes them work as a part of the larger narrative.

While it’s not perfect all the way through, seeing the characters we know and love, especially Peter and MJ, live their lives with wrinkles and all feels like something special, and I encourage anyone who is curious to go out and cop this 6 issue series and join the ride.

Runaways #24

For all manga fans out there, I’m a huge fan of the “slice-of-life” genre. For any non-manga fans, slice-of-life stories are ones that celebrate the everyday little moments that make up most of our lives. Riding bikes with friends, going to the movies, starting a new hobby, or even just going to the store and deciding what to get for dinner, these are all the kind of topics that a slice-of-life narrative covers. With her run on “Runaways,” Rainbow Rowell has essentially made a superhero slice-of-life comic, and I’m really liking every moment of it.

This week’s issue focuses almost entirely on Karolina and Nico spending a night out “superheroing.” Except it becomes apparent pretty early on that neither really knows what they’re doing, and whatever little problems they run into (fender bender on the 405, potentially lost children, etc.) are better left to themselves, as they either wouldn’t be able to help or would actually get in the way. It’s weird to say that watching superheroes be ineffective is really entertaining, but that’s exactly what I’m saying, and I think that is in large part to the good character writing that Rowell has done on her run, and the warm art of this series that helps you feel safe and cozy.

My favorite part of the issue is when Karolina and Nico stop for a bite to eat, and Karolina feels like she has to apologize for wasting Nico’s time. Nico just laughs it off and tells her that she was just looking to spend time with her partner, so in her eyes tonight’s mission was a success. It’s cute, it fits with the characters and how we’ve seen them grow over the run, and I like it a lot.

That’s not to say there isn’t any action in this issue. By the time the story is done there’s a super-powered dance fight and a mysterious new superhero debuting on the scene. I’m excited to see where both of those threads go heading into the next issue.

Justice League Dark #14

Since the Rebirth of this team this has been one of the comics that I look forward to the most each new issue, and this is quickly becoming one of my favorite iterations of the team. While Batman’s gothic-detective aesthetic fit well with the team, he always felt too based in technology and the modern world to really embrace magic. On the other hand, Wonder Woman is a walking myth, a demi-god on earth, someone who is made of magic. Her role as the leader of this team alongside heavy hitters like Zatanna and Swamp Thing, along with smaller characters like Detective Chimp and Man-Bat, has felt natural and authentic.

Another great part of having Diana on the team rather than Batman is that her personality stands out. Whereas Batman and most of the magical characters in DC are generally tragic, Wonder Woman is a symbol of hope and optimism, someone who fights to see the best in people and bring that best version out of them. This works especially well with her band of misfits, who despite having much more experience than Wonder Woman in the world of magic, have far less experience in being part of a team, let alone in being “superheroes” in the traditional sense of the word.

As for this issue, it’s a set-up chapter that ticks all the right boxes. We’ve essentially got the “Dark” Justice League Dark coming together, led by a newly powered up Circe, who are raring up to wage a Witching War against their good counterparts. While their final players are coming into the fold, the villains have already managed to plant a couple of seeds of doubt into the team which will certainly bloom into dissension. Can’t wait to see where this goes next.

Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #11

Tom Taylor gets Spider-Man.

It’s a simple statement, but as we’ve seen over all of the years with Spidey, not a whole lot of writers have really understood what makes Spider-Man so spectacular, amazing, superior, etc. It’s a testament to how well Tom Taylor is writing Spider-Man in this series that he’s telling small scale stories without a whole lot of action, death-defying adventure or real conflict, and yet this is some of the best Spider-Man I’ve read in years.

The opening pages set the tone for the story right away, with one of the simpler but most honest statements I’ve seen in a Spider-Man book:

“See, Captain America is Captain America. Thor is Thor. But Spider-Man...

Spider-Man is Peter Parker...

And Peter Parker is my responsibility.”

That’s the thesis statement for this story, detailing a day in the life of Mary-Jane Watson, the often under appreciated girlfriend of our titular web-head.

The story from then on is pretty much in her hands, with occasional monologuing from a sleeping Peter, as Mary-Jane goes about what we can only assume is a pretty typical day in the life of the girlfriend of one of NYC’s premier heroes.

Small scale stories are essential in superhero comics in order to break up long events and arcs. They’re breathing room, time for the readers to catch their breath and assess the new status quo before things get wild again. But they’re also often the stories which show us the foundations of who these heroes really are. It’s been said that power doesn’t corrupt, it reveals, and when characters with as much power as Spider-Man aren’t up against the wall and forced to make a decision, the decisions they do make show us that much more about the person beneath the mask.

Tom Taylor has managed to show us just who Spider-Man and the people in his life really are underneath their masks by lowering the stakes. The stories are small and simple, the consequences often equally so, but what’s been created is true to the characters more than almost any stories I’ve seen before, and it’s lovely. This is one of the best books being written right now, and if you’re not reading it yet, you need to go out and fix that right now.

Detective Comics #1010

It feels like there isn’t much to say about this week’s issue. We’ve still got the stranded billionares on the island, who are now clearly being held hostage by Deadshot. Meanwhile Bruce is rescued and patched up by two WWII fighter pilots who have been stranded on this island since the war, neither knowing which side won.

I’m a big fan of Deadshot when he leans into his nihilistic killer persona, and this “The Most Dangerous Game” setup with a tech-deprived Bruce and Deadshot duking it out on an island seems interesting. Tomasi has been generally pretty good with his run on Detective Comics, so I’m excited to see how long he runs with this arc of Bruce and Deadshot trying to outsmart each other in this deadly game of cat and mouse.

#comics #superhero #dc comics #marvel #batman #spiderman #superman #wonder woman #the flash

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bauerfanstraten · 10 years ago

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Tagged by justanotherbagofcats

Rule 1 - Always post the rules Rule 2 - Answer the questions asked by the person who tagged you. Write 11 of your own questions. Rule 3 - Tag 11 people and link them to the post. Rule 4 - Actually tell the 11 people they have been tagged.

Questions

1. What is the furthest memory you can remember?

My grandpa's funeral.

2. Do you like to read?

I do.

3. Do you enjoy roller-coasters?

They're okay. Haven't been on one in forever though.

4. What are your top 5 favorite animals?

Do they have to be real? Dog, cat, dragon, unicorn and pegasususususususususus

5. How many musicals have you seen?

Uhhh just one live - Sound of Music.

6. Have you ever been camping?

Ew, no.

7. Do you like wearing dresses?

YES. But I don't get many opportunities to do so, which is sad.

8. How many stuffed animals do you have currently?

Uhh... on my bed, 4. But all over the house, a lot.

9. Water, juice, soda, coffee, or tea?

10. What is your favorite Disney movie?

Either Mulan or Sleeping Beauty. And coincidentally they a thing.

11. Are you feeling tired right now?

Somewhat, ahaha

My Questions

1. Favorite moment/character/thing of Orange is the New Black? (Skip this if you don't watch)

2. Biggest pet peeve?

3. Do you procrastinate procrastinating?

4. Explain to me what meta is through example.

5. Beef tongue with green onions, you cook both sides?

6. Would you rather lose a foot or three fingers (ya know, your index, middle and ring)?

7. If you had to switch bodies with a character who you hate to hell, who is it and what would you make of your time as them?

8. I'm so late to the party -- why is Thor no longer worthy to hold Myeh-Myeh? Did he get banished to Midgard again? Is Darcy okay?

9. Name a TV series/book/franchise you're currently not into you want to watch if you had the time/could stop putting off.

10. Shittiest thing that ever happened to you online?

11. For all the Once fans... Frozen, anyone? Sleeping Warrior? Favorite brotp? (For all the non-Once fans... uhhh... how would you like it if Mulan was in love with Sleeping Beauty but Aurora's prince couldn't keep his lil swimmers in his pants and there was no Shang or Mushu?)

I tag:

sinomin dianamustang1 justanotherbagofcats eclair1 foreverjori seestrashotme purplemeatball golgothasdabooty queen-of-anarchy loopyrandomfooditem laurelcoats

#me

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desiretdtee-blog · 4 years ago

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hi. i’m des.

tumblr is so outdated, especially in this generation. that’s so silly to me, but like it also brings me comfort. bc now i feel like i can express myself the way i used to. this place used to be my secret safe haven, a place i could run to. just to throw up a bunch of words to random strangers and no one really judging me. it was a place to get to know a bunch of other outcasts who shared the same social anxieties and now i feel like i just described twitter. haha. anyway, this post isn’t going in a particular direction. like i said, just a lot of word vomit. lately, i’ve felt alone. the most alone i’ve felt in a while. in this past year, i’ve lost not only my beautiful grandma, but also the man who played the role of my father. my grandpa died. i haven’t fully grieved either of them. i haven't really put my life on pause either. i just kept going. whether that meant working 6 days a week this time last year, or saving a bunch of money to get a car and idk try to forget the shittiest days of my life. i’ve been more observant than social lately, idk what that is. i would rather just sit and listen, than say anything at all. anyway, i created this space to write again. “find myself,” but also do it in a place where no one knows me. starting fresh. zero followers. just me. my thoughts. a cup of tea (i’m currently on a coffee strike). and some dope music that make my ears smile. let’s see where i’m at in a couple days, weeks, or even months. thanks for reading. if you made it this far, i appreciate you. <3

#imdes hides

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stephicness · 7 years ago

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High Rollers and Sore Losers -- Final Fantasy XV vs the Casino Headcanons

Since I’m a scrub who doesn’t want to sleep yet (even if it’s 2 AM), LET’S DO SOME QUICK HEADCANONS IN HONOR OF MY MINI-VACATION! C: *finger guns* We’ll fudge it a bit and say that Prompto and Noctis are a year older than they are. Because US laws. c:

Noctis Lucis Caelum --

The passive and almost reluctant companion on the trip.

He doesn’t really care much about actually gambling, but he’s most excited for the comfortable beds.

Will order and request 15 pillows.

Yes, he does plan on trying to sleep with them all. The poor soul sleeping next to him will just have to try not getting smothered.

‘We can get room service, right?’ He looks at Ignis with eager eyes.

The only machine he’ll ever gamble on are the ones that have pretty graphics.

He always wins. Even when he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Prompto forces Noctis to stay because Noctis is his good luck charm.

Doesn’t order liquor and doesn’t stay long because the cigarette smell bothers him.

He’d rather go back to the room and play video games and sleep.

Prompto Argentum --

‘Hell yeah! When can we go to the buffet?!’

He destroys the buffet lines, eating everything and anything in sight.

Ignis is mortified watching Prompto start on his fourth plate, but he’s happy the boy eats.

Flirts with the waitress to get to-go cups and boxes to hide food in the room for later.

Sorry, Iggy. Unlimited cookies are too good to pass-up.

Likes the weird people you run into. Especially in the sketchier parts of the casino.

Cute and charming enough for all the little grandmas to adore him.

They want him and his cute friend to be their good luck -- even if Prompto has no goddamn clue how any of these games work.

He takes lots of pictures with them though. Noctis is uncomfortable.

Probably one of the youngest looking there, so he gets carded. Alot.

Ignis Scientia --

The scariest card shark in the world.

So much so that people at the card tables learned to fear Ignis and his insane card counting and intense look.

They try to catch Ignis cheating, but they never can because Ignis doesn’t cheat.

Ignis leaves with gil in the bank and all the bitches.

He feels awkward whenever it happens, so he avoids them if possible.

Or has Gladio distract them as he plays instead.

Takes his winnings and goes to lounge by the pool alot.

He’ll wear those short swim briefs, show off those thighs, and get all the bitches again.

Again, he’ll feel uncomfortable at cover up while Gladio distracts again.

Going to a casino is the first time Ignis is able to relax in months. He enjoys himself for sure.

Gladiolus Amicitia --

People are scared shitless around him in case he busts them for cheating.

No, people. He’s not apart of the security team.

Really knows how to liven up the party at the roulette and craps tables.

Even if his luck sometimes is terrible, ladies still love him.

Usually sticks with Ignis because Ignis knows how to win. And Gladio likes winning.

Tries to take ‘company’ back with him to the room. Pillow fort Noctis refuses to let them invade his fortress.

‘Hope there’s a spa here.’ There is. He’s all up on that and getting the massage he deserves.

And reading a book in the giant tub regardless of what the others say.

Discovers there’s unlimited drinks so long as you play.

He wastes the most money in the world and comes back a wasted and broke(n) man.

Ravus Nox Fleuret --

Almost as good as Ignis is at poker.

Almost. His eyes give him away, so people always know when he’s bluffing.

Who needs to bluff though when you know you’re going to win?

Will have super good luck in bursts, then lose it all within the next five minutes.

‘Is that all you’re playing?’ In which Ravus glares and replies, ‘I shall play as much as I desire to!’

And then he feels challenged and has to play more.

Thinks that the buffet is a place for savages. Has to go to the fine-dining restaurant.

Has alot of guys flirting with him and offering to buy him drinks.

He sort of stares, but Ardyn takes the drinks for him. Because hey! Free things!

Will stay up playing until he makes back everything he lost. He always makes it back. Probably through intimidating the machine.

Ardyn Izunia --

The grandpa that all the grandmas adore.

And the grandpa that cheats blatantly enough that the boys know, but the casino can’t catch him.

Always on casino security in case he tries to rob them.

Or steal trinkets from the casino gift shop.

A walking embodiment of sin -- drinking, smoking, fraternizing and more.

‘I am disgusted,’ everyone states.

Ardyn does his things nevertheless.

Only ever plays the classic slot machines. The other machines are too new for him.

‘I appreciate the older classics.’ *cough cough Hipster cough*

Is found sleeping next to a trash can, hungover with a bag of poker chips in his hands.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret --

Acts like a princess who is naive and innocent when she enters the high-stakes poker tables.

She then proceeds to make grown men cry and leave without any of their clothes or dignity.

Doesn’t drink or smoke, but she indulges on their tears.

‘Teehee~’

Usually donates her winnings to charity afterwards, bless her soul~

Only really goes to the casino to make sure her brother doesn’t lose another arm and a leg when playing.

And just in case Ardyn tries to get Ravus wasted and into bed again.

Probably the only one willing enough to be the designated driver.

Tries not to scream because the room coffee tastes awful and she really needs some sort of coffee or tea in the morning.

Keeps the room so cold that you’re on the verge of getting hypothermia.

Cindy Aurum --

Literally does nothing but lean against the bar to get a water, and guys are all up on her.

‘Can’t a girl just roll ‘em in peace?!’

Gets grumpy when she’s not allowed to gamble.

Mostly interested in how the machine works, hoping to take one apart one day.

Wicked lucky on slots, to the point where it’s scary.

Just as enthusiastic about the buffet and all you can eat as Prompto is.

If not more.

Will reach for your bread rolls and take it from you as she asks ‘You gonna eat that?’

Noctis cannot reply, for Cindy has already devoured it.

Eats the ice cubes from the ice machines like they’re candy.

Aranea Highwind --

Never uses her own money to play.

Why pay when others will pay for you? She ends up flirting and hanging with some guy who’s dumb enough to fall for her charm.

Gets money by the end of the night and ultimately ‘wins’ that way.

Too impatient to remain loyal to a machine (or person), so she’s always wandering about.

Would rather go shopping at the gift shop and get something worth keeping.

Doesn’t help that Biggs and Wedge regulate her spending.

Like, alot.

Especially because Aranea’s the worst spender out of all of them.

Is seen sun-tanning by the pool or working out when not hustling people.

Girl’s gonna make every minute or her vacation last, goddamnit!

Cor Leonis --

Is he even alive? Nobody’s seen him leave his hotel room since he arrived.

He spends all day watching TV and taking old man naps.

Comes out only to go to the bar for awhile and bet on some sports games or horse races.

Shittiest luck in the world.

Makes Gladio usually pick what team to bet on. Gladiolus has worse luck that Cor though.

Thus, he goes back to his room because he’s broke and grumpy.

That, and this little blond kid (who Cor assumes is too young to even be there) keeps watching to challenge Cor to Blackjack.

To the death!

Cor refuses, even if he used to be a blackjack king in the past.

Not like you can even do blackjack to the death, kid...

#stephic writings #headcanons #final fantasy xv #ffxv #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #ignis scientia #gladiolus amicitia #ravus nox fleuret #ardyn izunia #lunafreya nox fleuret #cindy aurum #aranea highwind #cor leonis #SELF-INDULGENT WRITINGS!#WHOOP!#because you can get inspiration from the little things in your day-to-day life #just play cards with loqi dammit #show the kid some love cor!

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