#its all been downhill since TAR

[viktoriaashleyyx]

I love how much SJM wants us to forget ACOTAR when that was objectively the best book of the series.

[brevityisnotmywit]

Waiting For The Worms

Rabid Pneumonia: Also known as Tar Lung, or Wet Lung. A respiratory disease that eventually attacks the brain of its host, driving them to violence.

The pandemic has been ravaging Equestria for five months...Twilight is running out of time.

(Content Warnings: Zombie AU, Gore, Major Character Death, Disease.)

Five months have passed since the initial outbreak.

One hundred and fifty three long days of fear and mourning.

Two hundred twenty thousand three hundred twenty minutes of desperate attempts to combat this sickness.

It took a few weeks before Twilight had identified the reason they had so much trouble containing the disease. It was something so universal, so basic…something no one could live without.

Water. This damned plague spread through fresh water. True, a bite from an infected creature would transfer it, but its main method of transmission was something every living thing required. It wasn’t even like the princess had meant to discover this. No, she had gone to refill the coolant tanks for her lab when she noticed it.

Some poor filly, lost in the pain of the sickness, had dragged her broken body to the banks of the river. This puzzled Twilight. By this point, it was clear that the little pony was in the final stages of Rabid Pneumonia. She would have been suffering from hydrophobia, surely. And yet here she was, gagging on the black bile flooding her lungs. After many long moments, the pathetic creature hurls herself into the stream, startling Twilight.

Of course she was aware of how often they had to fish bodies out of the reservoir. She’d just presumed that it was due to the rainy season washing them downhill…she had a new panel to run.

After that, they tasked the pegasi and dragons with getting the word out. All water had to be boiled and filtered before drinking. It helped, but not nearly enough.

Month two is when they had to accept that magic wouldn’t fix this. The four princesses had called upon Discord to work towards a spell to address this. Between the five of them, there was nothing they couldn’t do…or so they thought.

Tar Lung could bounce back from anything they cast.

Discord was particularly stunned by this. He certainly wasn’t used to putting in effort to get what he wanted. By the time it was clear that they would have to resort to modern medicine, the draconequus seemed to fall into a depressive episode. He’d blipped away, presumably to the fortified home he had built for Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie. The latter had moved in after she’d lost her husband and their daughter…

Shortly after that, Cadence had heard of the illness reaching the Crystal Kingdom. She rushed home, only to report that she would be unable to leave her people. A week later, Twilight received the news that her brother had contracted it.

She scowled, and shook her head. If her magic didn’t help, that was fine. Twilight never let herself lose sight of the practical side of her studies. She was particularly skilled in chemistry. So she called upon anyone experienced in medicine. Earth ponies, Pegasi, Unicorns, Kirin, Zebras, if you knew your way around a lab, you were invited.

Zecora had been a big help to their cause. She had convinced a few buffalo to join her, one of which was Little Strongheart’s daughter. The zebra made it clear that Twilight was to show the utmost respect to all who answered her summons. If the princess didn’t understand traditional methods, that didn’t mean they had no merit.

The implied accusation stung, but Twilight understood why Zecora made it. She’d definitely had moments of dismissing science she considered primitive.

As it would turn out, some of the biggest advances the team made began with the group helmed by the zebra. Their deep knowledge of the local ecosystem had resulted in significant breakthroughs. They hit a snag when the disease mutated again. The first documented jump was to the local population of timber wolves. They hadn’t anticipated it would be able to spread to plants…

Ink Rot meant a whole different threat.

Applejack wasted no time in assembling a crew to figure out why their crops had begun to die. Clearly it was related to the pandemic, but how? Tar Lung started as a respiratory disease, it shouldn’t impact this.

And yet, here they were.

Thankfully Ink Rot didn’t seem to be able to transmit to animals. At least, not like the virus could. It definitely could make you sick if you consumed too much contaminated matter. But it just resulted in something akin to food poisoning. The biggest danger was how it weakened the immune system.

Anyone recovering from Ink Toxicity was significantly more likely to contract Tar Lung. Even if they took every possible precaution. The sickness was getting stronger every passing moment.

Applejack was the one that suggested rain was no longer safe. After the outbreak, Cloudsdale had allowed the weather to self-regulate. They would do their best to prevent natural disasters, but their numbers had been falling to the virus at a significant rate.

As the storms rolled through, cases would skyrocket. Out of frustration, Applejack lamented that the petrichor smelled sour. Of course. Of course it was the rain. They couldn’t possibly boil every lake in the world.

The timber wolves had started to reach the final stages, so they would likely be drowning themselves like the previous carriers. Zecora had guessed that Ink Rot stemmed from their decaying branches.

Twilight issues a command to have Cloudsdale evacuated. She finds some comfort in the knowledge that Dash wasn’t around to see her home in this state…wherever she was. The princess tried not to dwell on her fallen friends. They both would just tell her to keep working on the cure.

A few days after the fall of the pegasi kingdom, Zecora caught it. The moment the acidic bile began to seep from her snout, she walked into a holding cell. She reassured Twilight from her glass cage that everything would make sense soon. The alicorn had everything she needed to save the world.

It was a rough few weeks, watching one of her most valuable teammates collapse under the strain of the sickness. Watching as it reached her brain, being forced to hear the zebra rip at her burning chest. The wet choking echoing off the walls…Twilight cried herself to sleep regularly.

She was failing her community. She was running out of time.

Which brings us to now. 

Five months.

One hundred and fifty three days.

Two hundred twenty thousand three hundred twenty minutes.

A brilliant flash blinds the princess. She scrubs at her eyes, squinting against the light. She’s surprised at who stands before her. The lord of chaos himself. Discord had returned. He looks exhausted. His thin mane had grown out, forming mats that swung heavily as he offered a half-hearted bow. His mismatched eyes were haunted…something was wrong.

“Discord?” Twilight asks softly, not wanting to startle him. The lab had too many delicate items to risk him bolting on her. “...What happened?”

It was clear from his expression that he anticipated the question. The draconequus knew she was a clever one. She saw right through him. As per usual. His voice is rough, as though he’d been screaming for hours.

“Observant as always, princess .” He spits out her title like the word is rotten on his tongue. “I take it you’re not getting anywhere?”

The jab digs into her spirit like an arrow. Twilight’s wings lift subtly, making her appear bigger. “We’ve made significant progress towards a cure. We’ll have our vaccine by the end of the year.” She snorts, flicking her tail. “Not that you care.”

The air shifts. Discord’s form distorts, chaos magic leaking out. The princess catches a glimpse of his true appearance. A twisting fractal, branching out into impossible angles and planes. He snarls, teeth rotating and multiplying endlessly. After a very tense moment, he reels his power in. The window into his reality closes.

The venom in his voice remains. “I resent that accusation.”

Twilight forces herself to stand strong. She was the only one that could fight him if needed. “State your business.” She snaps. “But I’m only going to warn you once. If you do anything to jeopardize our work, I will not hesitate to stop you. Keep that in mind.”

“Oh I’m so frightened, I just might shake myself apart.”

“ Discord .” She takes a step towards him.

“Ugh, you’re still no fun.” He rolls his eyes. Literally. Before Twilight can respond, Discord’s tone becomes serious again. “I’m here to help you.”

“You know none of our magic works against it.” The princess reminds him.

“ Yes . I am distinctly aware of how useless I appear to you.” He folds his arms, his tail flicking with irritation. “This whole thing has gone too far. You need someone that can get you anything in a matter of seconds. I am your obedient servant .”

He punctuates this with another, more dramatic bow.

Something’s happened, Twilight realizes. “Not that I’m going to turn you down but…why are you offering this now? You could have shown up at any moment, you know.”

“They caught it.” Discord states bluntly.

Twilight doesn’t need clarification on who ‘they’ are.

“I couldn’t protect them…I poured everything I had into keeping my-” He pauses, glancing away. “Keeping them safe from this. You know me, I could care less if this world implodes…or at least I did. I’m a selfish creature, it’s in my nature. I’m sure you understand.”

The princess nods, motioning for him to continue.

“...I can’t let them die, Twilight. I might not be able to snap this disease out of existence, but if I can do even the smallest thing to help expedite your work?” Discord meets her eyes, and she can see a hint of his old resolve. “I’ll make it happen. Just say the word…and please, we may be desperate, but let’s not forget our manners, hm?”

A harsh laugh bubbles up from Twilight’s chest. She can’t believe this is what it took to snap Discord from his isolation…actually, yes she can. This was perfectly in character for him.

“Alright. We can discuss details later, right now I need-” She was interrupted by a panicked Spike bursting into the room.

“Hey! Twilight, I’ve got a message from the Castle!” The dragon holds it out, allowing his friend to grab it with her magic.

She unfurls it, expecting a long update. What she does find, however, are three sentences that chill her to the bone.

‘The disease has breached the barrier. The Sisters are no longer with us. Please hurry…”

[temozarela]

-> oh, banana co.

GOJO SATORU X GETO SUGURU referenced self harm, suicide, heavy angst, established relationship, hurt no comfort, unhappy ending

geto is misdiagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and everything goes downhill from there

WORD COUNT: 5k

ao3 version

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Drip, drip, drip.

Satoru treaded into the bathroom hesitantly, knowing it was the one place he hadn’t looked. As the yellow, artificial ceiling lights flickered on, he paused.

Drip, drip, drip.

Satoru scanned the row of empty cubicles until his watery gaze settled on the last one. 

He swallowed, his six eyes immediately picking up on the residuals smeared all over the cubicle walls. Satoru walked towards it slowly, trepidation weighing his feet down like bricks of ice. 

Drip, drip, drip.

Step, step, squelch. 

At the sound of his shoe landing in liquid, Satoru startled. He hesitated, praying that was just water, or fuck, even Suguru’s piss or diarrhoea would be a best-case scenario. Instead, when his icy stare assessed the puddle beneath him, tears pricked at his eyes like needles. His throat began to burn as if he had swallowed the sun, its core stuck in his oesophagus as he tried to repress the pain which wanted to be puked. 

Drip, drip, drip.

The crimson liquid screamed at him from the white tiles, showing the reflection of the man who had failed as a friend, lover, and shaman. The blood on the lower ledge of the cubical had dried, yet it still dripped as more of the metallic liquid leaked onto the other side. Blood. Satoru was filled with dread. 

Drip, drip, drip.

Satoru knocked on the door. 

“Suguru?” He murmured, his voice cracking despite himself. 

No answer.

He pushed at the door, only to find it locked and Satoru cursed. 

No, Satoru screamed, his head pressing against the door with a harsh thud. His anguish shattered the quiet buzzing of the bathroom like glass being savaged by a sledgehammer, his blunt fingernails scraping at the off-white, plastic door. Both weakened and fuelled by his anxiety, he pulled the door of the cubical off its hinges, completely unprepared for what lay beyond it. 

Drip, drip, drip.

He froze. 

His mouth opened. 

Then closed.

His hands fell by his sides as if his arms were lifeless. 

He was too late.

How could he have let this happen?

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  2001

The last time Suguru cried, he was 15. 

His parents stood outside their home, waving him off as he left for Jujutsu Tech. Suguru hated how he didn’t want to leave them, as if they hadn’t been convincing him that he was insane since he was able to speak. 

When Suguru started crying as a child, his parents would get angry. It was then the monsters emerged, crawling out from his mother’s mouth. Their inky fingers would latch onto her sloped nose and push at her olive skin. Another would already be leaking out his father’s eye sockets like hot tar, dripping onto the kitchen tiles to create a snarling mound of toxicity and regret, their empty eyes fixed on the child before them. The room would fill with the stench of vomit, later accompanied by the smell of urine as Suguru could no longer contain his fear.

They tried to fill him with antipsychotics, ‘paranoid schizophrenia’ is the label they pushed onto Suguru, but of course that didn’t work. At night, he would hear his mother cry, mourning the fact she was cursed with an inconsolable child. As the drugs didn’t work, the dosages became higher and higher. It was for this reason, his memories of his childhood felt like a nightmare, the small bubbles of what he could recall felt like he was underwater, drowning in nausea.

At 12, Suguru begged his mother to save herself. The woman, only standing at 5’1”, had curses gnawing at every inch of skin, sucking and twisting the wrinkling flesh. As always, he was dismissed and chastised for being so childish, so difficult, such a burden to her. He only watched in horror as her fingers would drip in black sweat, the all-familiar hue of vomit encompassing his senses. 

At 14, a strange man turned up on their doorstep. He had heard rumours of the child who could see monsters, and assured his mother that Suguru was sane. 

At 15, he was finally whisked off with the promise of a better life. Suguru let fate drag him from home, tears filling his vision despite himself. It was then that he quit taking antipsychotics, causing a rare side-effect called akathisia to consume him. It forced Suguru to keep moving, his legs and fingers shaking in order to scratch a non-existent itch. An itch which made him want to vomit and cry, an itch which made him scratch and tear at his skin as it colonised every lobe and cortex of his brain. An itch which made Suguru question if life was even worth the pain it caused him.

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  2006

  “Dude, get up! Our lesson starts in one minute.” Satoru’s fists impatiently rapped on Suguru’s door, with a disturbing lack of rhythm. 

“Tell Yaga that I’m sick.” Suguru called from where he was hunched over, perched on the edge of his bed. His fingernails tapped against the metal frame, his legs exchanging different amounts of pressure where they pushed against the creaky springs of the mattress as he restlessly shifted his weight.  

“Huh? Like hell I’m doing that!” Satoru’s muffled protest came from the other side of his door. 

“You should go, it’s not good to skip lessons.” Ensued Suguru’s always-moral reply, his voice silky despite the gritting of his teeth. He needed to throw up, or cry, but Suguru never cried. Vomit, it is. 

“Says you!” 

“Fine.” Suguru sighed, standing up to unlock his door. As soon as the door opened a crack, Satoru came bursting in. 

“Finally!” He groaned, dramatically throwing himself into Suguru’s unmade bed. “Shoko’s gonna kill us.”

Suguru yawned, grabbing his sports gear. “You shouldn’t bother yourself with my timing, Satoru,” He said as he stripped, chucking his sweat-drenched pyjamas atop his heap of dirty clothes which grew like a tumour behind the door. Appearances had always mattered to him, first impressions and self-preservation were two priorities he lived by in first year. Before second year, the only mess in Suguru’s room would be Satoru’s belongings- hastily thrown to the side during spontaneous visits or sleepovers, or his book collection, which had quickly outgrown the modest shelf by the bed. “Who’s going to fill me in if you’re not there?” 

Satoru pouted in response, cocking his head to watch the digits of the digital clock on the bedside table change, signalling the lesson’s start. As Suguru dressed himself, he shifted from side-to-side, desperately trying to repress the discomfort scratching at his skin without causing concern for Satoru. 

Suguru and Satoru started dating during their first year, though it was all preceded by countless fights and petty arguments. When Suguru saved Satoru’s life, from an accident entirely caused by Satoru’s ego, he was indulged in a kiss. After that, they moved quickly- kisses rushing into making out, then blurring into sex. It was nice at first, the intimacy and raging hormones. Summer was dream-like, everyday spent with each other, not a moment apart. However, when Autumn rolled over, Suguru pulled away. He blamed it on seasonal depression, but he and Satoru hadn’t kissed in days. Shit, Suguru couldn’t even remember when they last had sex. Satoru- loveable, daft, nonchalant, strong, so strong- Satoru had probably passed it off as Suguru being ‘moody’ again. Suguru couldn’t really blame him for it, he never let Satoru in on any more than that. He knew that as long as he was present, Satoru wouldn’t complain.  

“I’m going on a run.” 

Satoru frowned, “Again?” He whined, “What am I supposed to do?”

“Go to your lesson, I’ll be back soon.” Suguru told him, tying his hair up, repeating a mantra of  ‘I am fine, I do not feel sick, I’ll feel better after a run’ in his head. 

Leaving Satoru to sulk in his room, Suguru left the school grounds. With the physical demand of being a shaman and his constant need to move, running had always appealed to him. Sometimes he would run for hours until every muscle ached, despite the itch in his limbs still screaming at the back of his mind, begging him to keep moving. As always, his run started at the steps, leading him to the mountainside. The fresh air whipped against his tanned skin, leaving a faint, and not unwelcome sting as he moved. Despite a quick break to hurl the contents of his empty stomach into a bush, the run was somewhat tranquil. Suguru’s mind felt calm, his thoughts only consisting of observations such as ‘tree’, ‘rock’, ‘flower’, ‘tree’, ‘another tree’, and ‘ bush’  as he moved through the scenery. It was nicer than the alternative.

When Suguru finally returned, three hours had passed and he was due to miss his next lesson. 

Does it really matter anymore? 

Suguru crept to the dorms to pick up a change of clothes, noting with slight disappointment and pure disbelief  that Satoru might have actually listened to him. He made his way to the bathroom, unable to ignore the stench of sweat on his skin. Admittedly, it was the first time he had showered in a while. Carefully, Suguru took off his clothes, leaving them on the bench. Picking up soap and a towel, he walked into a stall, stepping under the spray of the shower. He hissed as the cold water splashed over the sores and scratches littering his skin. Suguru’s fists clenched as he started to wash his hair, the soap dripping into his eyes and onto his sensitive skin. The pain wasn’t unpleasant, and Suguru knew that was the problem. When crimson blood dripped down his arm, the internal demand for constant fidgeting was drowned out, replaced by the hot burning of the nerves in his forearms and thighs. 

After showering, he dried off, changed into his uniform and made his way to the training rooms, his legs moving as if on autopilot. 

Not long after enrolling at Jujutsu Tech, he had familiarised himself with the training rooms, which soon became his safe haven. The large, sealed-off rooms allowed privacy for Suguru to pace under the excuse of combat practice. Often, he would lose track of time as his feet never ceased their restless rhythm against the tatami floor. 

Despite his calm nature, frustration perpetually brimmed Suguru’s brain. He envied those his age who worried about homework and relationships, the insignificant woes of life which cowered under the curse of his akathisia. He hated that he was raised by non-sorcerers who gave him this burden, unlike Satoru who was treated like a blessing instead of a curse. 

His pacing continued furiously as he sunk into deep thought. Suguru wanted to crawl out of his skin. He couldn’t keep up with his body. It was as if he was in a constant battle with his biology. 

Develop a condition because of the mistakes made by your parents.

Check.

Fall in love with the most emotionally unintelligent man alive. 

Check.

Keep moving. 

Check. 

Keep moving.

Check.

Keep moving.

I’m exhausted.

Keep moving.

Keep moving.

Keep moving.

Keep mov- 

It must have looked like Suguru was in a trance. It reminded him of a case he had read about, of which took place in 1500s France. Suguru had read of people dancing until their feet bled, and inevitably until they passed out and died. It had all been part of some religious-rage-encouraged mass mania which caused people to dance perpetually until it killed them. And its cure? Prayer. It was laughable, but then again, there he was. 

When things got bad, Satoru would always offer to run with him or train with him, but recently things had been getting worse. With the impact of Toji Fushiguro’s attack buried beneath missions and lessons, Satoru had been growing distant. Suguru tried his best not to blame him for it, but resentment bubbled deep inside of him, despite reason. 

Things were changing rapidly, and Suguru had no idea how to handle it.

When Satoru entered an hour later, Suguru finally stopped. 

“Yo!” Satoru grinned, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose to reveal his wide eyes, his irises resembling glaciers thawing in spring. He perched on a box of training equipment, stretching his long legs out  in front of him. 

Suguru smiled wryly, “How was class?”

“Class…?” Satoru furrowed his eyebrows, bringing a hand to pinch his cheeks in thought, “Oh, right! I didn’t go.” He shrugged, “No use in going if you’re not there.” 

Suguru sighed, guilt gripping his heart with sharp talons. Sitting on the ground slowly, he winced slightly at the ache in his legs. “Where did you go, then?” he asked, starting to rock in place as restlessness caught up to him once more. 

“I went to see Toji’s brat.” Satoru said, letting his arms dangle by his side, “They look so similar, it's creepy as fuck!” He emphasised with an exaggerated grimace, slouching where he was sat. 

Suguru’s eyes widened as a harsh realisation set in, “Seriously?” 

“Yup.” Satoru replied, popping the ‘p’ , “I  guess he’s my responsibility now, huh?”

Suguru hummed, his gaze dark and cold, “Sure, I guess so.”

Bitterness, worse than the taste of a curse, burned on Suguru’s tastebuds. Satoru was like a weight that only grew heavier, no matter how much Suguru trained himself to lift. Satoru was a dock leaf to relieve his sting, forever dangled in front of him, impossible to reach. There was always another responsibility, another brick in the wall between them. Clan, missions, higher-ups, infinity, being The Strongest™, and now a child. 

Infinity, as a value, cannot technically grow or shrink. Yet, the infinite space between them suddenly became more daunting, and Suguru felt further away from him than ever. 

“When will I see you again?” Suguru asked, his voice low and upset.

Satoru took a sharp inhale as he furrowed his eyebrows, his hand reaching to push back his albino hair. “I dunno… maybe a week?” He mumbled, “It’s hard to say, they barely give me twenty-four hours notice before a mission anymore.” Satoru lowered his gaze to meet Suguru’s eye, a lopsided grin stretching on his face. “Why? You gonna miss me?”

Fall in love with a man you can never keep up with.

Check.

Suguru groaned, acting as if Satoru hadn’t just read his mind. “Whatever…”

Oblivious, Satoru barked out a laugh, “Don’t cry while I’m gone, yeah?” He taunted, though his voice was affectionate, “I won’t come back empty-handed, I promise.” Satoru’s voice softened as he leaned over to squeeze Suguru’s shoulder. 

With a dramatic kiss to Suguru’s forehead, Satoru waltzed out, leaving him with dread bubbling in his stomach.

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  “Satoru’s gone again.” 

Suguru sat in one of the metal chairs in the morgue, hunched over, as Shoko tended to a victim of a recent curse attack. She hummed sympathetically. “How are your symptoms?” 

“Worse than ever.”

“1-10?”

“Last week I said 10, Shoko.” Suguru’s voice shook.

Shoko turned to look at him, a cigarette dangling from her lips, “So now?”

“Shoko,” His voice started climbing with desperation, “I want to kill myself.” 

Suguru had never admitted it, not even to himself. And just like that, the civil war in his brain turned into World War 3; muskets becoming atomic bombs. 

Shoko’s neutral expression fell as she paused, the cigarette falling from her mouth almost comically. “You shouldn’t joke about that.” She stared at him, her expression the most appropriate it had ever been for someone standing in a morgue. 

“Shoko…” Suguru‘s voice was pleading. 

“I don’t want to dissect you, Geto.” 

“Shoko-“

“I don’t want to cremate you.”

Suguru fell silent, his hands beginning to tremble. 

“I don’t want to ask Gojo where we should spread your ashes-“

“Okinawa-” Suguru interrupted quietly, his voice brittle. 

“Geto.” 

Suguru froze.

Shoko turned away, bracing herself against the table and hanging her head.  Suguru wrapped his arms around his torso, his eyes stinging as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. His legs began shaking. The air was tense as Shoko stood up straight as she attempted to compose herself before turning around. “What can I do to help you?” She said slowly, watching him carefully. 

Suguru shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. 

If he spoke, he would throw up.

Or worse, cry.

“Geto.” Her voice dropped to a murmur as she walked towards him. “Talk to me.” 

Suguru stood up abruptly, the screech of the metal chair against the floor making Shoko flinch. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Suguru pulled a face, praying it was a convincing smile before he left, hurriedly. The door violently swung behind him, leaving Shoko to stare after him. He felt like he was in a daze, the lights blurred and his rushed footsteps became muffled. Suguru prayed that he would wake up, he prayed that his mind was taunting him in his sleep like usual.

As he strode out, his limbs felt like they could collapse in on themselves at any moment. Every part of him felt weak, his eyelids felt heavy, his nervous system was clawing at him, his mind was drained. 

Once he dragged himself  into his dorm, Suguru fell into a dreamless sleep as soon as his head hit his pillow.

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  Ring. Ring. Ri-

  “Hm?”

“Suguru! Guess what?” Satoru’s cheery voice answered. 

“…Huh?”

“…Suguru?”

“Sorry…” He winced as he sat up, his head spinning. “What was it?”

“I’m coming back for a while… Apparently Yaga argued with the higher- ups over it.” 

“How come?” Suguru muttered absentmindedly, climbing out of bed, shakily. It was all real. He felt sick. 

“Something that Shoko said-“

“What?” Suguru froze, his voice harsher than he had intended. He knew. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything. Now he was going to face the consequences.

What would they do? Would they even care?

It was conflicting, how his best-case scenario was also his worst. 

“Um… yeah. I dunno what it was, but I guess it’s important.” Satoru hummed. 

Suguru stood up quickly, “What did they tell you?” He asked, panic beginning to seep into his voice as he willed the acid in his stomach to stay on the right end of his oesophagus.

“Just that it was important enough for my missions to be deprioritised… why? Suguru, are you ok?” Satoru murmured, his voice sounding unsure over the muffled phone speaker. 

“Fucking peachy, Satoru.” He snapped, running his hand through his hair. “Look, I gotta go, ok?” 

“Sure, but-”

“See you.” 

  Beep. 

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  “Shoko!” Suguru hissed as he approached the woman, hunched over some paperwork. She froze. 

“What did you tell-“ 

Shoko stood up, glaring at him, clearly expecting this reaction. “Nothing.” She scowled, “I should’ve, but I didn’t.”

Suguru paused, his shoulders slumping. Short-lived relief washing over him like icy water. ���Satoru said…” 

“I told Yaga that it was vital, and he believed me.” She said, “That’s it.” 

“But who will-”

“Me.”

“Oh.” 

Shoko looked at him pitifully, “Can you last two days until he gets here?”

Suguru nodded numbly. He hated it. He hated how Shoko looked at him like he was a child acting out, like he was some sort of temperamental stray dog.

“Atta boy.” She replied, brushing past him to collect various files, deliberately avoiding making eye contact. 

He sighed slowly, composing himself. “I’m sorry.” He said, his voice cracking as if he were some prepubescent child. 

“For what?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Suguru replied sombrely, shifting on his feet. Shoko turned around slowly, her hands clenched by her sides.   

“Geto,” She whispered, “is that why you think I’m upset?” Shoko’s voice shook as she moved to pull Suguru into a hug. “You idiot.” 

Suguru froze as Shoko’s arms tightened around his torso, the warmth of another body so unfamiliar since Satoru had made himself more distant. He swallowed, his unsteady hands resting on Shoko’s back, pushing her small frame closer to him. “I’m losing both of you.” Her voice shook, each jolt of her trembling body sending a needle-sharp pain into Suguru’s heart. Guilt flooded through him, shrivelling and curling unpleasantly inside of him like a dead spider. Suguru leaned down, pressing his nose into Shoko’s chestnut hair. The smell of coconut shampoo invaded his senses and he reminded himself to store away the smell, right next to the vanilla-sandalwood-tainted sweat of Satoru’s inner thigh. Suguru rubbed Shoko’s back slowly, soothing her through her reluctant tears, which slowly started to soak through his shirt. “Don’t you dare go… Not you… Not you too…” She bit in-between gasps, her hands clawing the front of his shirt. 

“Hey...” Suguru managed, swallowing down his emotions with difficulty. “You don’t need us. You have Utahime, right?” He smiled painfully, hoping to reassure her. 

“Fucking bullshit!” Shoko spat, her voice muffled as she buried her face in his chest. “Stop trying to find people to fill your place.” 

“I’m n…” Oh. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He corrected himself, cradling the back of her head as she furiously sniffled. 

Shoko snorted tearily, “You better not.”

Suguru nodded with a soft smile. It was nice to know that he would be missed.

  ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

  “Satoru gets back tomorrow.” 

Yaga stared at Suguru sternly, who was sat in his office. Suguru hummed, the floorboard beneath his foot creaking with every bounce of his leg.

“Shoko told me it was more important than a hundred civilian lives.” He continued, raising an eyebrow at the teenager before him, pupils blindly glancing over Suguru’s dark circles and cuts. “Explain why I risked my position to bring Satoru back.” 

Suguru shrugged, eyes tiredly assessing the man in front of him. “It was Shoko’s idea.” He muttered, “Doctor’s orders, right?” 

“Suguru.” Yaga scolds, “Explain.” 

Silence filled the room, bottom to ceiling, and Suguru was sinking like the Titanic. He studied his fingernails carefully, noting each and every speck of dirt underneath, and every peeling cuticle on either side of his outgrown nails. His eyes then flickered to the blank walls, counting every chip in the paint. Yaga coughed and Suguru inwardly cursed as he lost count. Shit. He started again, probably going cross-eyed as he examined the ugly beige paint. 57, 58, 59… The tempo of the clock ticking was starting to remind him of the beginning of a song, the one that went-

  “Suguru.”

Oh.

  “I don’t know.” Suguru offered, trying to keep his voice even. 

If Suguru acted coquettish and nonchalant, he found that most people dismissed his antisocial behaviour as him being ‘an asshole’ or ‘being insufferable.’ It was no longer concern and pity he received from Yaga and Shoko, but scoldings and blunt retorts. This way it was easier. It would be easier for everyone, he told himself.

Yaga scowled, which seemed to be a common reaction to him nowadays, “That’s not good enough.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t supply a better explanation for Shoko’s actions.” He smiled with fake politeness, his jaw aching. 

“Don’t play coy with me.” 

Suguru’s smile didn’t falter as he faced Yaga. With absolutely no plan for what he’d say next, he opened his mouth. 

Ring.

Ring, Ring.

Infuriated, Yaga shot him a final glare before he turned to answer the call. 

Suguru slithered out of his office.

  ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

  The countryside blurred into a green smudge as the bullet train sped through the outskirts of Tokyo. Satoru sighed, his head resting against the window, upbeat music humming through his earphones. 

“Excuse me, sir.” 

He pulled one of his earphones out, turning his attention to a young woman in uniform. 

“May I see your ticket?” 

Satoru handed it over absentmindedly, his vision beginning to blur as his tired eyes threatened to close. 

“Thank you!”

He felt the lady press his ticket into his open palm, and he pulled his fist into his lap as her footsteps faded away. 

The hours of the train journey had started to bleed together, his under-eyes aching more with every passing tree. Satoru sighed, his eyelids fluttering shut behind his glasses. Life had become suffocating. He envied when he had time to pick fights with Suguru and pull all-nighters playing Digimon. Now he spent endless days exorcising curses, rescuing civilians, arguing with high-ups. Life was a broken record: exorcise, rescue, argue, exorcise, rescue, argue, exorcise… Satoru hadn’t slept for weeks, and that was ok. Well, Satoru didn’t need to sleep, right? 

Admittedly, he had no idea why he was suddenly whisked onto a train. A lot of authoritative decisions about his schedule passed through Shoko since she was the only one who rooted for his psychological and mental health. She had never demanded he return half way through a mission, though. Sure, missions were prioritised and deprioritised all the time, but this was different. Satoru felt dread crawling up his spine and eating at him like termites, despite him having no logical reason for feeling so. 

  Something was wrong.

  He tried not to think about the other reason he was so busy now. Besides Toji’s kids and clan politics, another burden had been eating away at him. It was unheard of in their first year for Satoru to take over Suguru’s missions. They were competitive, and they fought to do the most missions by the end of the month. The first time Suguru asked Satoru to take one of his missions, Satoru was ecstatic, taunting him for days. The second time, Satoru accepted smugly. The fifth time, Satoru was concerned. 

And now? 

Suguru hardly went on missions anymore. Maybe a few grade 1 or 2 curses per month. Shoko said something about medical issues. 

Satoru noticed, of course he had, the constant shaking and fidgeting. He also knew that Suguru was depressed. Satoru saw the containers of Prozac on his bedside table and he recognised Suguru’s unexplained disappearances from 15:00 to 17:00 every Thursday. 

Oh, he knew. Satoru just never knew how to address it. 

The automated feminine voice over the speakers announced the train’s arrival at Shibuya, and Satoru shifted in his seat, stretching his arms above his head. 

It would be fine. Suguru could handle himself. 

If not, Satoru could handle whatever Suguru couldn’t. They worked well like that. It was fine, they always pulled through in the end.

As the train rolled to a stop, Satoru picked up his small bag of belongings. He only brought hygiene products and sleep-wear, clubbing and exploring had lost its appeal to him a while ago. 

Satoru stepped off the train and took a deep breath, walking over to the assistant waiting for him. 

“Yo.” He greeted her with a wave. 

It would be fine.

  ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

  It was not fine. 

  “You’re telling me this now?” Satoru spat, the cogs in his brain sparking and groaning as they twisted and collided, his brain catastrophically rewiring itself as he attempted to process Yaga’s words. 

Yaga’s jaw clenched, “We didn’t think it would get… like this.” He said, sombrely. Satoru’s eye twitched. 

“And now what?” Satoru’s voice was harsh, unbothered by how Yaga looked away and Shoko walked out, hand shielding her mouth. 

Yaga looked helpless. “His therapist contacted us saying he didn’t turn up to his session today,” He muttered, “we thought you could talk to him.”

Satoru scoffed, turning away. He walked out the room. Just like that, every gap was filled. Every run, every day spent in the training rooms, every scratch and bandage… He wanted to vomit. 

  “Gojo!” 

  Shoko caught him by the hand. 

“If it helps, Yaga didn’t know until recently…” She murmured, “Well, he didn’t know the severity of it, anyway.” He turned to look at her slowly. 

“When did you find out?” Satoru asked, his voice quiet. Almost fragile. 

Shoko grimaced. “The day you were called back.” Satoru nodded, beginning to walk away from her. 

She swallowed. “No, that’s not right.” Satoru stopped. “He told me a week before that. He’d been telling me for weeks that it was getting worse.” Shoko admitted, her expression stoney. “I didn’t know what to do.” Her voice grew hoarse. “I’m sorry, Gojo.” 

Satoru swore under his breath. “It’s fine.” He said, dismissively. His head hurt, and if he took his hands out of his pockets, they would probably start shaking. “I’ll go find him.”

Shoko nodded, watching him warily. “Ok.”

Wordlessly, Satoru started walking again, his legs moving on autopilot as he numbly stared off into the end of the corridor. 

  What the fuck.

  Satoru’s feet led him to the dorms, he could picture Suguru curled up in his bed, nose buried in some stupid philosophy book.

  What the fuck.

  Everyone knew except for him. Suguru had been saying for weeks that things were getting worse, and Satoru didn’t know a thing.

  “What the fuck.” 

  Satoru swung his door open.

His room was empty. 

  He paused. 

  Maybe he was in Satoru’s room.

Empty.

  Satoru’s feet moved manically, causing him to trip over himself as he stumbled to the training rooms.

Empty. 

  Empty, empty… 

He checked the showers. 

Empty. 

  Door after door was thrown open, handles slamming into walls and scratching off paint, some coming off their hinges. 

Empty. 

Empty, fucking empty. 

  Satoru wanted to scream. 

  At last, he turned to the boys’ bathroom, slamming the door open. Anxiety pumped through every vein in his body, overflowing his arteries and beginning to bubble over. 

Drip, drip, drip.

Satoru treaded into the bathroom hesitantly, knowing it was the one place he hadn’t looked. As the yellow, artificial ceiling lights flickered on, he paused.

Drip, drip, drip.

Satoru scanned the row of empty cubicles until his watery gaze settled on the last one. 

He swallowed, his six eyes immediately picking up on the residuals smeared all over the cubicle walls. Satoru walked towards it slowly, trepidation weighing his feet down like bricks of ice. 

Drip, drip, drip.

Step, step, squelch. 

At the sound of his shoe landing in liquid, Satoru startled. He hesitated, praying that was just water, or fuck, even Suguru’s piss or diarrhoea would be a best-case scenario. Instead, when his icy stare assessed the puddle beneath him, tears pricked at his eyes like needles. His throat began to burn as if he had swallowed the sun, its core stuck in his oesophagus as he tried to repress the pain which wanted to be puked. 

Drip, drip, drip.

The crimson liquid screamed at him from the white tiles, showing the reflection of the man who had failed as a friend, lover, and shaman. The blood on the lower ledge of the cubical had dried, yet it still dripped as more of the metallic liquid leaked onto the other side. Blood. Satoru was filled with dread. 

Drip, drip, drip.

Satoru knocked on the door. 

“Suguru?” He murmured, his voice cracking despite himself. 

No answer.

He pushed at the door, only to find it locked and Satoru cursed. 

No, Satoru screamed, his head pressing against the door with a harsh thud. His anguish shattered the quiet buzzing of the bathroom like glass being savaged by a sledgehammer, his blunt fingernails scraping at the off-white, plastic door. Both weakened and fuelled by his anxiety, he pulled the door of the cubical off its hinges, completely unprepared for what lay beyond it. 

Drip, drip, drip.

He froze. 

His mouth opened. 

Then closed.

His hands fell by his sides as if his arms were lifeless. 

Drip, drip, drip.

Satoru could have tried to convince himself that the mutilated body before him wasn’t Suguru, but his six eyes spelled it out in capital letters. He silently cursed himself for acting without thinking.

Suguru’s skin was grey. He died staring up at the ceiling, his pupils now blown, leaving only a sliver of evidence of the bronze irises which Satoru once adored, now barely visible in his empty eyes. The raven hair which fell to Suguru’s shoulders was now matted with blood, each strand glued to the contours of his hollow face. Various shreds of his intestines slid down his hair and blood-splattered cheeks, landing with a plop in the rancid puddle of his fleshless lap or on the floor where most of Suguru’s innards appeared to have been dumped. His body had seemingly been turned inside-out, only bones and muscle remained within the body. Suguru’s disfigured ribs poked out of his skin like the branches of a tree, withered by winter. His legs had been twisted unnaturally, his feet, or what was left of them, pointing in erratic direction. His grimacing lips were parted, vomit and blood dripping from his chin like a leaking faucet, the acidity burning Satoru’s nose. 

The stench of blood, shit and puke should have made Satoru back away and gag, but he didn’t. He stood and stared. 

He stared for so long, the gruesome scene burned into his retinas. 

He was too late.

How could he have let this happen?

[love-ardour-anarchism]

maybe (sixteen heavens high)

I step out in winters freezing sunlight and wonder, I recall my dream of last night and I wonder what would it feel like for my skin to blister or how the breaking of my bones on pavement bleeding tar in summers heat will sound and as I walk downhill my right sock moves uncomfortably upward my ankle I wonder how I’ll see the sun the day that I‘d get diagnosed with cancer and just the same I wonder when our bonds of love will break and one of us will leave the other or if not either then I wonder when you’ll die a sudden death and I will crumble

though maybe sudden is the wrong word cause i’ve spent almost every day since I learned how to think just wondering or worrying, however I would call it, just when all of my luck runs out and all the ones I love will die or we won’t have enough to live and all the lucky cigarettes I’ve smoked won’t do a thing for change

maybe maybe I still write because there’s not a day that i’m not feeling caught between my dualistic tendencies and all or nothing or nothing at all maybe maybe I write because I lack the nuance and ability to feel some way beside the damned apocalypse and sixteen heavens full of all the love and splendor of the world and maybe and maybe I am always flying high or crashing to the lowest points of any non-denominational equivalent of christian hell

cause as long as I can remember I have been feeling up or feeling down and either you and I are meant to be because you love me so because I love you so or we are breaking up, now any aching second now

and this whole world and all it’s politics is either apathy or my unshakable own brand of hope

and maybe I spent two years writing solely poetry of love and all the sweeter things and now I’m back to earth and sound where smoke and light remains maybe I need different medication different therapy, more exercise, a different diet or maybe I’m just done with being done and I just need to listen to my head when it feels dark and numb as well as when its wrapped in vapor, lavender, and roses

and maybe LIFE is just that very motion sinking sibling, rising ape and I would ride my highs like I would ride my bike when I was just a kid; with this imbalance in my head it’s death and glory any day that I can get and poetry is a skill I learned in therapy; and some days it’s enough and right now i’m not sure it is but if it’s not then I’ll find other ways to vent the pressure in my brain and live and labor for another giving in to any foolish hope of better times and better times where we lie side by side inside my bed and maybe one day in the dirt be it shallow in a brave new world or next to your dad in the city he grew up

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP.7 (Cont.)

“i have not now, nor ever, liked this creepy ass church elevator.”

“kanade please get out of my head, just because im hungry doesnt mean you have to tell me every time i am”

Hibiki finishes getting a full body X-ray. She’s fine.

“that anime protagonist immunity is really kicking in well!”

“by the way, your wife is here! and she’s looking mighty miffed., as opposed to me, mighty milfed.”

“you dont strike me as a mother figure but ill play along for now”

“i just hope miku’s okay...”

“oh, she’ll be fine! see, i’ve seen these kinds of plots before. big secret revealed, another lover is shown, the victim watches as they’re thoroughly cheated on, and they get to lik-”

“please stop breathing”

Genjuro’s wasting away again in Margaritaville. Looking for some daughter to adopt. SOME PEOPLE SAY THAT THERE’S A, WOOOOMAAAAAN TO BLAAAAAAAAAAME, BUT HE KNOWS

XYLOPHONE RIFF

THAT’S IT’S ALL HIS FAULT

XYLOPHONE RIFF

“i hate it when he gets like this. jimmy buffets not a good look for him.”

“for once you and i agree. seeing the commander sulk like this like a middle aged perma-tourist is genuinely miserable”

“hey homies! im back and i brought some bitches! oh, jesus, why does this place smell like mistakes in miami?”

“its me. im sorry. every time i feel like i failed as a dad, my anti-dad energies manifest. imagine every midlife crisis rolled up into a single ball, smacked into the face for eternity. thats the depth of my pain for failing this girl.”

In a moment of positivity, the friendship between Tsubasa and Hibiki is cemented.

> Tsubasa has joined the party.

“FRIENDSHIP!”

“fweindship.”

“uuuuhhhhh... dadship? yeah thats close enough.”

“WE’RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS!”

“ya tiddies are ringing again, better go get it”

Ryoko also points out that Hibiki’s relic is fusing with herself at an alarming rate. This is important to keep in mind.

Meanwhile, at night.

Miku is posing in the motherly “you done fucked up, where have you been young lady” position. A cold scolding is coming.

“.........................hey miku......”

“you can come in. are you worried im gonna bite? you suplexed a car. that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

“miku, i.... i wanted to tell you.... but.... the plot wouldn’t let me, miku....”

“should’ve told the plot to fuck off anyway. now you’re gonna live with that. you’re sleeping... on the bottom bunk.”

“b.... b..... b...... b.... b...... bottom bunk...?”

They slept separately that night. God, this is so stupid. All of this is so goddamned stupid. “I’m so mad at you even though you saved my life.” This is just so. AUGH. THIS IS DUMB. KANEKO WRITE BETTER ANGST THAT MAKES SENSE THAT ISN’T THIS.

Meanwhile, far away from this garbage...

Chris, having been evicted from Fine’s McMansion, wanders the streets of mumblemumble aimlessly. Don’t be fooled by her new fancy dress. Basically, she’s a combat-competent hobo.

“no food. no home. no victories. this sucks. whyd you do it, fine? we coulda been great together. but no. ya fired me. now i look like im prancing the red light district with a highly advanced superweapon around my neck.”

“no... hibiki’s to blame. ever since that genderbent little mac showed up to fight me, it’s been all downhill. fine thought me a laughstock because i couldnt take out her oversized boxing gloves, and now she beat me while i had nehushtan. god... i wish i never met that damn hamster faced chubby cheeked nerd.”

“wait, whats that crying”

Chris spies two kids talking to each other, one of them crying. Chris immediately makes an assumption, believing the big bro is bullying his sis.

“hey! stop nicking her lunch money, twerp”

Chris currently is a firm believer of corporeal punishment.

But the sister deflects the blow. Chris can’t even defeat children right now. Truly, this is a record low for her. You know you blew it when even kids are schooling you on basic morality. She then tells the little girl to stop crying, ironically mirroring her brother.

The infamous double T-Pose maneuver. Chris, you might as well get a shovel and start digging your own grave.

“i keep doing bad things badly, and now im doing good things badly... when fine said i was bad... did she just mean im not talented?”

Chris, finally, does a good thing and helps these kids find their parents.

“yeah. hibiki saved a kid when she got her gear. guess what? bam! im saving two! that’s fifty percent more kid per kid saved. take that, weirdo.”

The kids call her out on Chris singing unconsciously, and Chris gets flustered over it. Dawwwwww.

Chris manages to get them to safety to their Dad...

...while brutally lying about it, making Chris look like a predator. There’s a very crushing irony at play here, given who Chris used to serve.

“ugggggggggggggggghhhhhh hes not even gonna payyyyy meeeeeee why the fuck did i dooooo thiiiiiiissssss”

“hey, you know. you kids have a really nice relationship with one another. care to give me tips on how to be an empathetic human being capable of making friends?”

“maybe we’re born with it”

“maybe its maybeline”

“maybeline...”

Meanwhile...

A cold wind blows through Lydian Apartment 69-L. (I don’t actually know if that’s their room number, I just made it up.)

“jesus take the wheel, because i’m jumping out the passenger seat to save this current wreck of a relationship”

“miku please i saved your life, doesnt that count for anything”

“you already killed me the moment you lied. also im taking the bottom bunk so i dont have to see your face coming down the ladder.”

“miku you cant hide in this depression den forever. i know i hurt you and im sorry for it, but please understand i literally couldnt do it. you saw there were punches and violence and stuff... i didnt want you tied to that...”

“what was that? i cant hear your apologies over my incredibly loud snoring. SNOOOOOOORE. SNOOOOOOOORE. SNOOO- fuck, i just swallowed my spit, fuck”

“i hope this cocoon of displeasure you’ve made for yourself lets you erupt into a butterfly of acceptance so i can fly with you again.”

“......thats not fair. you cant say those beautiful metaphors and get away with it. let me be mad... sniff... let me be mad...”

Sadness wafts in the den of lies Hibiki has been forced into.

No music plays. There is only heartbreak, and woe.

In the midst of this pain...

Ryoko loredumps about how the Symphogears work and are immune to the noise on her blog, ‘hornyonmainforscience.org’, her hybrid science journal slash kink zone. It’s mostly a recap with some pretty good soft techno beats in it.

“i made a custom brew of red bull, five hour energy drink, coffee, and cream. i call it gamer girl piss.”

“damn. that’s some good piss.”

She muses about how Hibiki has managed to break the limitations of her Symphogear, making her a totally unique specimen. Wait, where have we heard this before...?

Hey... Ryoko... let’s just... cool it a bit with the Hibiki pictures... come on...

Ryoko touches upon the Custodians and the Curse of Babel. We ain’t touching that shit until later, because that’s another shitfuck box of crazy just ready to jump us in a dark alleyway to rob us of our wits.

Back to Lydian:

“miku whats the answer to the first three multiple choice questions”

“B. A. D.”

“oh, thanks. huh, BAD.”

“yeah. you are.”

“mmm. taste likes dissapointment. just like my life.”

“hey table for two haha get it cause there’s two chairs and miku for the love of god, please, forgive me”

“ive surgically removed my eyes and drew eyelashes over them with sharpie so i dont have to see your bird bangs.”

“thats very rude to both me and my hair. also, wig.”

Even Hibiki’s meal is judging her. Mainly for not eating it. Fucking look at this. God, that looks amazing. Fuck, why did I write this while I was hungry.

“miku you cant do this forever. i might die and youll end up crying on my tombstone going ‘oh god, why, oh god’, and really, i cant live with myself if that happens. mainly because id already be dead by then”

The Anime Janai crew show up to break some icebergs with a goddamn sledgehammer. As the self-aware Gods of this realm, they got very tired of this poor display of angst, and have decided to directly intervene.

Nevermind. They came for her kneecaps, and they most certainly got them.

PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU. END THIS GARBAGE PLOT THREAD.

“look. imma lay down the facts. yall are gay. yall are in love. yall are angry for the wrong reasons. its nobody’s fault here but the writer. so please kiss and make up. pretty please.”

“kaneko... you fool... we all know what the original sin is. its your hack writing making this stupidity in the first place. let the pencil go, asshole!”

They bring up the fact that Hibiki isn’t doing her work and wonder if she has a job on the side, which isn’t allowed by the school. Miku gets annoyed and bails, with Hibiki running after her. Unfortunately, Miku runs faster...

“oh god miku not the rooftop whatever you’re thinking just dont do it! please!”

“no. i came here to angst, since this is the Maximum Angst Zone.”

“i..... okay! okay, that’s fair! rooftops are the perfect place to look sad while getting proper air ventilation, thats fine”

It really would have been better played if it was played off that she felt hurt not because of the lie, but because she felt like she could have helped her better having known the truth, and it being a self-loathing sort of scenario for not being there better for her and not fully understanding the risk at play.

But no, instead, we get this.

Absolutely obliterated. A heart ripped, shredded, and sent to the Shadow Realm.

The episode ends on that note, but has a post credit scene.

Naked. On an old timey telephone. On a computer. Wearing stockings and long gloves.

The main antagonist of the series, everybody.

She’s talking the best English possible to some random-ass American when suddenly bursting through the scene is none other than:

“I WANT WORKERS COMPENSATION YOU BITCH, BEFORE I UNIONIZE YOUR NAKED ASS”

“AND I WANT A GOOD REFERNECE FOR MY FUTURE EMPLOYER, AND ALSO A SEVERANCE PACKAGE SINCE I’M FUCKING HOMELESS”

“i paint my eyelashes with mascara made from the tar of freshly carbonated corpses manufactured through noise, what on gods green earth compels you to think id give a rats ass about you?”

“so you never cared, huh! you’re just a nasty naked hedonist trying to- trying to- what the fuck are you even trying to do?!”

“i want to live the dream every spicy little fossil like me yearns for.”

“I WANNA FUCK GOD!”

“how- what? what? how do you even- what? are you- do you want to be the pope? is that it? does the pope get to fuck god? are you- is this a larping thing? you’ve really been into larping lately! i don’t like this!”

“youve never read the old testament, have you. ass out, pussy bare, hips up and barefoot. that’s how god’s always liked it.”

“now get lost, punk. you tipped off my hand to genjuro and now you being here is going to ruin everything. if you still feel any semblance of devotion, eat one of your own bullets and call it a day.”

“it’s 2012 bitch, if the mayans dont get you, I WILL”

“what god gives, He takes away, and so do i. i built you from the ground up. your relic, which was good for jack shit on you. the nehushtan, which you failed to do anything with except zap a couple hundred people. stop wars? you’re a walking war, waged by me, for me. and your cartridge has just run out of bullets.”

“uh oh! hand’s acting up again! better bail before i send you back to smacktown where all the bitter little shittalkers like you strut around spending their lives being useless as hell.”

“ah fuck, im not dealing with no manos: the hands of fate bullshit again”

“and guess what else i got on motherfucker”

“i see the union efforts have officially been busted. understandable, have a nice day ma’am”

“LEAVE.”

“I’M GOING, I’M GOING”

[militant-holy-knight]

Benioff and Weiss Were Always Hacks: You Only Noticed Now

Or why you should be worried for the future Star Wars movies made by them

(Disclaimer: this blogpost contains spoilers for Game of Thrones)

With only two episodes left for the series to reach it’s conclusion and the announcement for future Star Wars movies in the horizon made by David Benioff and D.B. Weiss (henceforth referred to as D&D for simplicity sake), not many fans seem to be excited about it as they should due to the creative choices taken in regards to the final season of Game of Thrones. Speaking as a GoT fan, I used to enjoy the show a lot and I believe it reached it’s peak on Season 4 and started to go went downhill on Season 5. If D&D were in charge from the beginning what happened?

D&D’s job was always to adapt the book series by George R. R. Martin, which means any merit to the show’s writing can be attributed largely to Martin while D&D were only fit for it to make it work into a tv show - which is still laudable in it’s own right because there are things in the books that still wouldn’t translate too well into the show. In any case, they did their job well from Season 1 to Season 4 which adapted the first trilogy in the series. Even though there are still five books in total released at the time, Season 5 is where they started to run out of material to adapt because some storylines didn’t find their proper conclusion and they needed to come up with their own unique deviations.

Season 5 is considered by many fans to be the low point in the series because of it’s extremely low pacing and controversial liberties taken: the biggest ones have to be the Dorne subplot because that meant axing popular book character Arianne Martell, Stannis Baratheon turning irredeemable evil and paying with his life and Sansa’s marriage to Ramsay Snow leading to her rape, which is still a very hot button among the fandom to this day (and understandably so). Season 5 did have some moments like Hardhome which showed the strength of the true villain of the series, the Night King, the leader of the White Walker invasion who brings winter with him. He is the Thanos-like menace who is teased since the very start of the show with the very first scene opening with a White Walker killing some Night Watch’s rangers and warning us about the danger he represents.

Season 6 fixed some of these problems by giving a more dynamic pacing and build it up with the Battle of the Bastards as the climatic encounter instead of something completely anti-climatic like Season 5′s finale where Stannis Baratheon’s forces were liquidated by the Boltons offscreen. But still, it was an entire season wasted to fix another one’s problems and it still had some individual problems. 

And then Season 7 came along and it all went to waste. I wouldn’t say it was as bad as Season 5 because at least shit happened and it wasn’t boring, but it was still full of groan-worthy moments like trying to force some romance between Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen which doesn’t work because they have no chemistry and they are related by blood, curing Jorah Mormont who has been infected with a dangerous disease that will turn him into a snow zombie by simply cutting out the infected area, and of course lest we forget the Wight Hunt in Episode 6 “Beyond the Wall” which broke all suspension of disbelief. Lemme sum it up for you what happens in that episode so you can get the idea and let me put up a map so you can get it from reference.

The heroes come up with the idea to capture an Wight and bring it South to convince Cersei to from a truce.

The travel by boat to the Wall from their base on Dragonstone.

After reaching the Wall, they walk into the land beyond it to find a wight.

They find one and send one of their members back to ask reinforcements having to sprint a indeterminate distance.

The team gets surrounded by the Night King’s army in a frozen lake for a indeterminate amount of time.

The allies at the Wall send a raven back to Dragonstone requesting help.

Daenerys summons her dragons to fly to the land beyond the Wall to rescue the heroes.

They are fighting to the last against the advancing horde of the Night King just before Daenerys arrives in a triumphant moment to save them.

And all of this happens like... Within a hour apparently. Several days should have taken place between this exchange but time moves at the speed of the plot, but D&D seem to be relying on emotional torque to get viewers to ignore all internal logic and be mindblown by the crowning moments of awesome. And this is the core issue with their writing.

D&D write their scenes the same way they film sex scenes apparently, hoping that the emotional moments will make the audience be carried over. Thing is... I realized this after thinking up about many moments in the past. Hardhome was one such example in Season 5 to make up for its abhorrent dullness and even Season 6 wasn’t safe from this. For example, remember how Rickon Stark died just so he could provoke Jon Snow to act irrationally and spur him into conflict? Why didn’t Rickon run in zig-zag when Ramsay began firing arrows at him? Why did he run into a straight line? Did these writers not watch Prometheus to learn their lessons from it’s mistakes? This problem was carried over in Season 8 and amplified a lot in the Long Night. Many people pointed out the several military blunders made by the protagonists when fighting against the Night King’s army.

I could talk about the moronic choice to film everything in absolute darkness and make it impossible to see shit.

I could talk about how idiotic it was to waste your cavalry against the enemy bulwark.

I could talk about how they didn’t create trenches with tar or use fire for more effective manner against the undead.

But I’d rather talk about that moment.

Arya killing the Night King.

You know at first I was okay with that because:

I wasn’t being a fan of Jon Snow in a long time.

Arya wasn’t a Mary Sue, had skills that justified her, so I could buy it better.

But the more I thought about it, more I came to the realization that it was a wrong choice all along.

Arya never had any investment in killing the Night King. She was a character defined by a list of people she wanted to kill including the Freys, Cersei, Joffrey and others.

Arya was trained as an assassin yes... But her training in Season 5 and 6 was very lackluster. She spent some time doing menial works, impersonating some people and trying to spill some poison on someone’s drink. She never learned invisibility, teleportation or any other cool shit.

And most importantly... Melisandre predicting that Arya would shut down “blue eyes” way back when they met in Season 3. If she sensed she was always destined to kill the Night King why did she ever support Stannis? Why did she even support Jon Snow? She even referred to him as the Prince that was Promised. Some fans can try to spin this as much as they want, but it breaks the plot retroactively very hard.

The actress herself didn’t think she deserved it

Of course all of these things were ignored by a large part of the fanbase, more specifically the “woke” crowd because YAS QUEEN SLAY. Little did they know that the very next episode would force them to eat a real shit sandwich when “The Last of the Starks” seemed to turn the narrative against Daenerys Targaryen by turning her into the Mad Queen, killing her handmaiden Missandei and setting up Jon to be the next King of Westeros. Not helping matters is that a series of leaks not yet confirmed as of the time of writing were released prior to the episode (but I personally feel they were legitimate due to some specific things but that is not the point) which sent many Daenerys fans into panic mode.

Speaking as someone who really doesn’t like Daenerys Targaryen, I can actually sympathize with them at some level because this shift appears to be very sudden specially now that the authors favored her more until this very moment. Some viewers can argue that there were always signs like her burning the Tarlys for refusing to bend the knee, which I personally took issue with before but it never really came across as the sign of an insane ruler since she offered very valid rebuttals. It all seemed like the plot was tailored to take her side no matter what and I considered Dany a Mary Sue. But just because they seem to be turning her into a villain now, it doesn’t make me hate the story any less.

Now... I spent an inordinate amount of time bitching about Game of Thrones and if you are an Star Wars fan that doesn’t know anything about it, you might be lost to anything I am writing. Well I needed to give an proper context to both GoT and SW fans since those seem to overlap now and give you a warning because Star Wars seems to be more lost now than ever. D&D were never particularly good writers, they were incoherent about continuity, care more about spectacle over substance and seem to share a thing about subverting the audience’s expectations like a certain Ruin Johnson who succeeded in completely ruining a franchise like there was no tomorrow. The key difference between D&D and Ruin is that the duo doesn’t share the same flippant attitude or picking up fights with fans on Twitter - on the contrary, D&D understand the power of fanservice even if it means daggling the metaphorical shining keys in front of the audience. 

As we come close to Game of Thrones conclusion, I have a feeling that nobody will truly come out satisfied with it should the story take the direction that we are really dreading. I’ve seen interviews about how Emilia Clarke sounds really sad and deflated, seemed like she was really disappointed with how the show ended. Whatever happens, the blame can be laid on the feet of Benioff and Weiss for their frankly baffling creative decisions. This season has been disappointing through and through with two or three episodes being needlessly long and filler to booth and to make matters worse, it was supposed to end earlier than 10 episodes. Why did they need to rush it and yet fill the series with so much dead air?

Now can you imagine a Star Wars movie made by them? With all these things I listed? The next trilogy is already dated, we don't know if it's D&D or Ruin Johnson yet. We are talking about a couple of writers that have no sense of realistic scale, continuity or logic, but rely on cheap emotional tricks to have the audience invested until they begin thinking about it. I would laugh until I was sick if this season turns everyone against those two fuckwads that Disney changes their mind about putting them in charge. If the world was a just place, this is what would happen at least.

[splashrollstumble]

Africa Cycle Tour – Malawi

We started our Malawi cycle leg in Lilongwe, having come across by bus from Chipata on the Zambian side. On reflection, we should have just cycled, as the bus took even longer than cycling would have. As usual in Africa, everything takes forever and we had to wait for about three hours at the border for the security guards to check the vehicle. It was dark by the time we were dropped off at Lilongwe bus depot, so we hassled to get our stuff out the bus while taxi drivers constantly haggled us. Getting luggage on and off these buses is a notoriously bad way to get your stuff stolen – and it’s twice as likely when it’s dark and you also have a bike to worry about.

Fortunately, we sorted everything, put our lights and head torches on and made our way towards a nearby hostel and campsite. We arrived safely at the campsite and checked in before setting up our tents and then cooking a quick dinner. There weren’t really any other guests and the hostel didn’t even have wifi so, with little else to do, we got to bed early.

Lilongwe to Salima

I awoke early and went to draw some cash so we could pay our bill while Romi made coffee. Then we got going as soon as we could, knowing there was a fair amount of uphill to Salima. We stopped on the way at an Airtel shop to buy simcards and mobile data which turned into a long nightmare of a mission. After the rigorous process of registering our sims against our passports, we tried to buy data but the Airtel guy was busy so we went to a shop next door where they only had airtime vouchers for 500 kwacha. I needed to buy a 6GB data package which cost 10,000 kwacha and I wasn’t going to individually scratch and enter 20 different codes.

We decided to get some food and wait until the Airtel guy was available. Eventually, we got sorted but by now it was already quite late and we were hoping to get to Chipoka, the town just after Salima where the ferry stopped, to see if we could catch it the following day to Monkey Bay. That meant we would need to do about 120 kms.

We pushed on through the day and luckily had good weather – no rain but enough clouds that it wasn’t hot. By mid-afternoon, we reached the escarpment overlooking Lake Malawi and started on the downhill towards Salima. After talking to some other ‘mzungus’ at a gas station we decided we could get a cheap guesthouse here and hopefully make it to Chipoka for the ferry in the morning. We stopped at a little place that agreed to let us camp for cheap under the cover of its outdoor conference area.

Salima to Monkey Bay

In the morning we set off early and soon bumped into two Swiss cyclists coming in the opposite direction. Like us, they too were members of the Cairo to Cape cycle Whatsapp group and we stopped to chat for a while. They were also heading north but along the coastal road, while we planned to take the ferry from Monkey Bay just for the experience of it. We exchanged contacts and hoped to meet up again somewhere further along the road.

Arriving at the port we were quickly informed that the ferry no longer departs from there and even if it did we would have missed it. That meant we would have to cycle the long route around to Monkey Bay – a total of 135 kms if we wanted to arrive today. Our friends Jeff and Ash from Zambia were expecting us at Monkey Bay and were leaving on the morning ferry so we needed to make it if we were to see them.

We put our heads down and pushed on hard – so hard that I missed a crucial turnoff and we ended up going 5 kms in the wrong direction! Now our daily total would have to be 145 kms! I quickly discovered why I missed the turnoff – despite being marked as a national road on Google Maps it was actually just an unmarked dirt road. We had no choice but to follow it into the bushes and it turned out to be quite a fun ride although a bit bumpy at times. We weaved through some towns with bemused villagers until eventually reconnecting with a tarred road.

Eventually, after our longest and hardest day in the saddle so far, we arrived at Monkey Bay as the sun was setting. We met Ash and Jeff at a lovely, secluded beach backpackers called Mufasa Eco Lodge and after a quick beer, I enjoyed my first swim in Lake Malawi. That night we all had an expensive but very decent dinner with the other guests and then joined some locals playing bongo drums around a beach fire.

Two weeks of relaxing

Ash and Jeff decided to delay their boat trip for another week so we all went to the nearby beach resort of Cape McClear and spent a week relaxing there. It’s a beautiful location for scuba diving and snorkeling, although we spent most of the time eating, drinking and playing the local African board game Bawo.

Eventually, it was time to catch the ferry which we initially intended to take to Nkhotakota but the hostel owners at Mufasa explained there is no jetty at Nkhotakota. This means we would have to go to shore by a small boat and walk through the water with all our luggage and bikes – an improbable feat. We decided instead to go all the way to the next stop, Nkhata Bay, with Ash and Jeff.

Click to view slideshow.

The ferry took two days and one night which is just about enough time to enjoy it without getting bored. To save money we slept on the deck but Ash and Jeff kindly let us keep our valuables in their room. In Nkhata Bay we spent another week off the bikes exploring the surrounding area and hanging out with other travelers.

Click to view slideshow.

Nkhata Bay to Mzuzu

Our extended holiday finally had to come to an end, so we bid our friends farewell and begun the long cycle inland up the escarpment to Mzuzu. This was the steepest incline I had attempted with my six gear bicycle and it proved a bit too much for it in places. For the first time on the trip, I was forced to get off and push the bike uphill.

In the end, it took us about seven hours to cover the short 50 kms up to Mzuzu and we arrived hot and exhausted at a rather fancy campsite someone had recommended. The cost of camping itself wasn’t expensive but the cost of food and drink was similar to that of a fancy European restaurant. We could have explored somewhere nearby instead but we were too tired and ended up just having their cheapest pasta dish.

Mzuzu to Rhumphi

After leaving Mzuzu the steep hills died out a bit and we got to enjoy some winding, curving roads into the mountains of northern Malawi. The first stop along the route was a tiny village called Rumphi that only had one small campsite and very little else but it was in a beautiful valley. Although it was early and we had only done a short distance we decided to stop for the day and relax here. I think their highly recommended Italian style pizza had a big influence on that decision.

I spent most of the afternoon working and then in the evening lightning and thunder crashed across the sky as the heavens opened up and poured down upon us. Fortunately, our tents were under a small wooden cover because I assume this was a minor off-shoot of the cyclone that had ravaged the southeast of Malawi recently.

Rumphi to Livingstonia

By sunrise, the rain had fortunately died down, so we had a quick coffee, packed up our wet tents and got going. The road that day followed a winding stream that took us along an exceptionally beautiful route through a long valley towards Livingstonia. We hoped to take a different, dirt road up to Livingstonia from the south but the rains the night before meant it would surely be washed out.

Instead, we stuck on the tar road that went down to the coast and decided to see if we could get a lift up to Livingstonia from there. The Swiss cyclists from before had been in touch and informed us that the ride down the north road from Livingstonia is quite enjoyable but riding up would be impossible. For this reason, we decided to take our bikes up on the back of a truck. This turned out to be a rather disastrous mission, with about five guys arguing about how to tie Romain’s bike on the back. Eventually, we got going but the bike fell off twice on-route before they eventually managed to attach it successfully.

After a very long and bumpy ride, they dropped us at the top of a long dirt path that led down to Lukwe Lodge which the Swiss had recommended. On arrival we discovered it to be a very expensive boutique lodge and not really a backpacker campsite at all. Most of the food and drink on offer was twice the usual price we were accustomed to but luckily the camping cost wasn’t too extreme. Since we had our own food and were now all the way down the hill we decided to stay. That night we saw an incredible lightning storm over Lake Malawi.

Livingstonia and Mushroom Farm

The following day I joined three Dutch girls on their drive up to Livingstonia town so I could get phone signal and do some work. They explored the local markets while I finished two articles and then we headed back down to Lukwe. As we had decided to take a day off and chill here, I decided to go visit the Mushroom Farm backpackers down the road. It’s not actually a mushroom farm and doesn’t appear to have any mushrooms so I don’t know where the name came from but it made good food and was far cheaper than Lukwe.

As a result, I chose to move for our second night to Mushroom Farm but Romain was not feeling motivated to pack up the tent and do the long journey over. After visiting some nearby waterfalls I packed up and moved over. Unfortunately, my decision turned out to be a bad one as Mushroom Farm has no fridge to keep the beer cold. For this year I would strongly advise against staying there even though Lukwe is much more expensive.

Downhill to Hakuna Matata

In the morning we reconvened at Mushroom Farm and had some coffee and breakfast before starting the cycle down the bumpy dirt road to the coast. It turned out to be somewhat easier than expected, although we did have to take it quite slow. The views were spectacular though and I highly recommend it if you are cycling in the area.

Back at the bottom we bumped into an Isreali couple we had met in Monkey Bay and they told us they were staying at a nearby campsite called Hakuna Matata. We followed them there and decided to spend the night, although they were leaving that evening to head up to Livingstonia. Still, we spent a really nice afternoon chilling together and it was one of my favourite times of the trip.

FloJa Campsite

We were up early and after some breakfast and a chat with Willy, the campsite owner and a fellow South African, we were back on the road. Although we could have cycled all the way to the Tanzanian border today, we still had a few days on our visas so we didn’t rush. Instead, we stopped around lunchtime at a very nice campsite called FloJa which is run by a Dutch couple.

We chilled the afternoon and then in the evening bought some fish from a local fisherman and some vegetables from the campsite owners. Then I threw together a fire from some dry branches lying around and we had a makeshift fish braai with salad for dinner.

To the Tanzania border

Finally, it was time to say our sad farewells to Malawi and head into Tanzania. The day was quite long but fairly quiet and uneventful and we arrived at the border post around 4pm. We didn’t have any hassles this time and got through in about 15 minutes.

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[minneapolisfoundationservices]

How to – Basement Waterproofing

Basement Waterproofing How To

How most basement waterproofing issues are solved is by repelling water away from the basement with a watertight coating and a drainage system. The coating waterproofs the buried walls, while the drain collects and removes groundwater before it reaches the building. There are different methods on how to basement waterproofing, all which require digging a trench around the bottom of the foundation.

How long waterproofing will protect buried walls is more or less based on the quality of work and materials used. It can deteriorate because of a compaction of the ground or structural cracks.

The techniques used are suitable for both old and modern houses. The choice of the system and its level of performance are determined by:

the nature of the soil and its moisture content;

the type of masonry;

of the house configuration.

A waterproof substance required on the walls and outer soles of the base down to the ground level.

Two great options when considering how to basement waterproof

Install an elastomeric synthetic rubber membrane (self-adhesive sheet or contact glue ) directly on the masonry wall; put in a delta-MS or Soprema-type membrane (plastic set up in accordance with the manufacturer’s recommendations) which creates a protective coating against aggregates.

Make the most of the fact that your walls are excavated (procedure equal to a third of their waterproofing budget) to better protect them. You could:

Take note that a liquid rubber copolymer preparation, a tarred coating applied directly to the base, is not sufficient to effectively waterproof your foundation, even after a number of coatings. This material isn’t resistant to movement, so if the cracks or moves, infiltration is possible. Also, we can’t put such membranes inside, this measure must imperatively be performed on the face of the wall exposed to positive pressure (external ) and water exposures.

Why does a house need basement waterproofing?

Impermeable material over the entire exterior surface of the base must prevent water and moisture from entering the base walls or beneath the floor slab. Putting a membrane or liquid rubber preparation will reduce the possibility of moisture being generated, which can harm your materials and harm your health.

When a house is built, a pit wider than the foundation was dug. Initially, a sill plate is installed on the foundation along with sealant. This is the base on which the house rests and keeps it from sinking into the ground. The walls are constructed made of concrete, blocks, or even stones. A base drain is then installed around the perimeter and is used to allow water to drain from the dirt.

Eventually, fill dirt that’s been excavated from the hole is poured across the base. The ground is less compact than the virgin soil, as it’s been disturbed during excavation. It will stay less compacted throughout the life of the home and will absorb water faster than virgin ground.

This video shows the type of basement waterproofing that DIY enthusiasts could do on their own.

When you dig a hole in the ground and it rains, you would expect it to fill with water, right? It’s the same thing that happens when you put a house in the hole and it rains.  The water seeps into the embankment around the foundation which is usually less compacted. Special measures need to be taken when waterproofing a basement in Minneapolis because the soil is always freezing and thawing.

Concrete poured foundation walls have water seepage often at the joint between the wall and the floor. Like concrete poured walls, block walls will also leak at the bottom joints. The foundation wall blocks filled with mortar joints that can weaken and crack and allow water flow to seep in. The block walls are hollow inside and once the water enters, it fills these hollow cores and leaks water through the wall. This water forms inside the concrete and fills up to where the water flows through the wall.

The space below your basement may also be backfilled and can also be full of water. This happens when water moves through the wall-floor joint and beneath the foundation footing and beneath your floor. Water can also adhere to a sewer line or underfloor water. If you have cracks in your basement, this water may push through the cracks in the ground and create a pool of water in your basement.

How basement waterproofing is commonly done

Water can be intercepted at the back floor column using a perimeter waterproofing system and a sump pump. If there’s a particularly problematic crack on the basement, a side line could be run from the crack to the perimeter waterproofing system to keep it under control.

Storm sewers are notoriously inefficient because they’re usually not installed deep enough in the soil to drain down them to be inclined. Unless they’re installed in the base significantly deeper than the base, the water has to run into the storm sewer in order for it to work. Additionally, the quantity of water which the storm sewer can store is limited by its size.

However, this can only work in cases where the leak doesn’t need to run upward since the water naturally doesn’t leak in this way. Therefore, unless the dirt drops around your home over 9 or 10 feet, a downhill slope isn’t feasible.

If you’ve got a sump pump installed, then you can actively pump water out of your property. However, the sump pump can’t assist you if the footing drain which leads to it’s clogged and full of soil.

Foundation drains do work, but just for a little while and only if they’re installed so that they can drain effectively.

Another frequent repair method is to waterproof the foundation of the home from the exterior through an external excavation. To do this, the foundation needs to be dug up to the sill plate.

It is an enormous hole and a big job that requires skilled professionals. All the dirt excavated from the pit is deposited in the lawn. A waterproofing membrane is then implemented and drainage then returned into the hole. It is less compacted than previously. The water will flow through the drainage board to the base drain and if your slope isn’t steep or a storm sewer down the road to drain this water, a sump pump will be installed.

But then, the problem of clogged drain continues and in a couple of decades, this drain will also need to be replaced. The uncompacted embankment will strike through the years. You’ll have to add soil around the base and then you can update your landscaping and put things around the home. That is, you will understand, a somewhat disturbing and costly operation.

Water can enter the basement in different was based upon the wall type. This is one reason that a system design expert must arrive at the true location to ascertain the reason behind water leakage and provide you effective solutions to prevent future water leaks. Minneapolis Foundation Services have specialists that can help determine the best solution for your home. Contact us to schedule a free foundation inspection and receive a no-obligation free estimate.

The post How to – Basement Waterproofing appeared first on Minneapolis Foundation Repair and Basement Waterproofing.

from Minneapolis Foundation Repair and Basement Waterproofing http://foundationrepairminneapolis.net/how-to-basement-waterproofing/

[armadilloroofing]

Round Rock Commercial Flat Roof Repair

Commercial Flat Roof Repair You Can Trust

Understanding Flat Roofs

Flat roofs have some basic issues and challenges. For example, drainage can be a big problem if the slope is not right. A drainage problem can lead to water leaks and mold developing. Watertight seals are the answer to this problem. Plastic or rubber can also be used. Another option would be to use some pitched roofing along with the flat areas, because nobody wants water pooling on, in, or around their property. You need to use proven, successful methods and quality materials to ensure that your flat roof is installed properly and maintained well.

The maintenance of flat roofing on a commercial building is another issue often cited by building owners and property managers when deciding on a roofing system. Some don’t choose to install a flat roof on their building due to being misinformed. While there are legit concerns, we believe the key is to use the correct materials, installation methods and procedures for installing the roof.

Flat roofs work great in the dry, warm and windy Texas elements. Flat roofing systems use less surface area opposed to pitched roofing systems, which can have double the total square area of a flat roof. They also do a good job of reflecting heat on sunny, warm days, which helps to insulate and cool the inside of buildings too. In warmer areas, every cooling opportunity is helpful in keeping energy costs low.

Commercial flat roofs have definite requirements. Unlike sloped, pitched roofs, which rely on gravity to shed water and material from them, flat roofs use drains and rely on water resistant membranes to protect the building. The term ‘flat’ is a little misleading — no roof is totally flat or water would pool on it. “Low slope” is a better term for what’s commonly called a flat roof. Flat roofs have at least a 1/4 inch of slope per foot (or more) so that moisture can flow downhill to the drainage system and then off the roof and down to the ground.

Types of Commercial Flat Roofing Systems

In the past, most commercial flat roofs wouldn’t last as long or be quite as durable as sloped roofing systems, because sloped/pitched roofs shed rain and organic material better. Over the last few decades, however, new advanced materials have been developed for flat roofs. They’re more durable, energy efficient and will compete with sloped roofs for the length of their lifespans. 

Here are the three main types of materials used on flat roofs:

1. Single-Ply 2. Built-up 3. Spray-on or paint-on

Single-Ply Commercial Roofing

EPDM (Ethylene Propylene Diene Monomer), PVC (Polyvinyl Chloride), and TPO (Thermoplastic Olefin) are the main types of single-ply membranes used. 

Today, these three are the most common materials used for both commercial and residential construction on flat roofs. Its important to know that they aren’t the same in quality and longevity. They all have different formulations, durability specifications and cost.

Single-ply is simply one layer of membrane as the waterproofing and weather deflecting surface. All membranes range in width from 6 to 18 ft. The most commonly used width is 10 feet. The average thickness of the membrane goes from 45 to 90 mil. Its usually recommended to install a membrane that’s, at a  minimum, 50 mil in thickness.

Commercial Flat Roof Repair Contractors

TPO against PVC

There’s a big discussion in the industry around using TPO versus PVC membranes, and arguments about which is the more effective material.

PVC is now considered to be the more durable of the two. Its specially formulated to remain intact in a varied variety of severe weather elements (rain, snow, wind, sun, hot and cold temperature fluctuations). Also, what makes PVC so solid is the fact that the top and bottom ply of the membrane have almost equal thickness.

TPO, on the other hand, has limited durability, as there isn’t any consistent specs with the manufacturers, who are testing to make it more durable, and also less costly than PVC. But, as with anything, when you try to get the price lowered by compromising the quality of the materials you’ll end up with an inferior product. 

One thing that affects TPO’s durability is the top ply (weathering surface) of the membrane (which provides the strength) is actually thinner than the bottom ply. In most iterations of the product the ratio is 40/60.

Lastly, most TPO systems have poorer resistance to heat and solar overload than PVC.

Built-up Roofs (BUR)

Built-up roofing materials are constructed by using built-up layers of either tar-infused paper and liquid tar with gravel, asphalt, rolled asphalt, or modified bitumen. As the roofing system is installed, more layers are added to increase its strength and lifespan, which is why its named “built-up”. One thing to remember is that any kind of built-up material requires a more positive roof slope of at least 1/12 inches.

As mentioned, the materials BUR is made of are: 

Tar and Gravel 

Modified Bitumen 

Rolled Asphalt

All of these methods are starting to become outdated by today’s modern construction standards. They’re not installed much on large commercial properties anymore, but there are some residential properties still using it, because of the lower installation cost compared to other systems.

Spray-on Foam and Paint-on Flat Roofing Systems

The two main types of spray and paint applications are:

Spray Foam Insulation –  Sprayed directly onto the roof deck and then coated with acrylic or urethane coating, and sometimes a layer of crushed stones or sand in addition to the coating.

Paint-on Roof Coatings –  Made for existing roofs and used to extend their life by 10 years or more. They are usually applied on top of single ply, modified or low slope metal roofs.

At Armadillo Roofing & Exteriors, we provide commercial flat roof repair, commercial flat roof installation and residential flat roof installation services to Round Rock, Texas and all the surrounding area communities. We’ve been in business since 2003 and have plenty of experience in all commercial roofing applications. When you need advice on repair or installation of your commercial flat roof, don’t hesitate to give us a call at (512) 333-7663.

[nancyedimick]

Thoughts on the judicial nominations mess and nuclear fallout

Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) speaks to reporters on Capitol Hill. (J. Scott Applewhite/Associated Press)

Barring the unexpected, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) on Friday will seek to invoke cloture on the nomination of Neil Gorsuch to the U.S. Supreme Court, a majority of Senate Democrats will vote to filibuster the nomination by opposing cloture, and McConnell will seek a majority vote to reinterpret the Senate rules to preclude a nomination filibuster as then-Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-Nev.) did in 2013.

How did we get here?

In my opinion, the story of judicial nominations over the past 30 years is a story of repeated, escalating retaliation. Instead of tit-for-tat, it’s been (tit+X)-for-tat. At each turn, each party has escalated as much as it thought it could get away with, tearing down norms and breaking precedents over again. Put another way, senators from both parties have acted like two kids in the back seat of a car, taking turns hitting each other, with each “punching back twice as hard.” After trading enough blows, how it started is almost irrelevant.

Different people trace the beginnings of this current cycle of retaliation to different points. In my view, it began in the mid-1980s, when Senate Democrats decided that they should do more to oppose President Ronald Reagan’s nominees because they were too ideological — a decision that was reported in The Post at the time. I explain this and discuss what happened since in this post from 2013. Whether Senate Democrats were justified in their action is irrelevant at this point, as it’s been almost all downhill since. There are no clean hands.

[A (probably futile) plea for sanity in the Senate]

2013, of course, is when Reid invoked the so-called nuclear option (a.k.a. the #ReidRule). As it happened, I wrote one post just before Reid’s decision to go nuclear, and one just after, discussing the fallout. Among other things, I noted that there was no reason to expect the new rule to be limited to lower-court nominations, and that whichever party needed to eliminate the filibuster to allow a Supreme Court nomination to go through would take that step.

Assuming that McConnell has the votes to follow Reid’s lead, what will the fallout be from the decision to go nuclear? There will be hard feelings and recriminations, just as there were before, but what else? One counterintuitive possibility is that it could actually help de-escalate the judicial nomination wars. I also suspect it might help increase the diversity of the Supreme Court.

For one thing, eliminating the filibuster for Supreme Court nominations will alter the calculus on who to nominate to the Supreme Court. Prospective nominees will need only 51 votes. This means that the prospect of blocking a president’s nominee when the Senate is controlled by the same party would decline dramatically. It will be much harder to get 50 votes in such situations than to get 41.

If the likelihood of blocking a nominee declines, then the value of obstruction efforts will decline as well. If the value of obstruction declines, then we would expect the investment by outside groups in obstruction to decline as well (though such resources might be shifted to other things, such as influencing elections that would affect nominations). Thus, we might see less effort to, for instance, demonize candidates, dig up dirt from their pasts, or tar nominees as out of the mainstream.

If it’s harder to obstruct nominees, we might also see a willingness to consider nominees with less-traditional qualifications. That is, we might see presidents willing to nominate people who have done things other than work in the executive branch and sit on the federal bench. We might also see presidents more willing to nominate people who have done cause work or expressed controversial opinions.

One common complaint about the Supreme Court is the relative lack of diversity in the experience of the current justices. All but one served as federal appellate judges, and most worked in the executive branch or as prosecutors, but there is not a single justice with real criminal defense experience.

One reason presidents might be reluctant to put forward nominees with criminal defense experience is that such nominees are easy to demonize (as was done with Judge Jane Kelly) and misrepresent. If a criminal defense attorney was good at his or her job, then that attorney will have helped some not-nice people get reduced sentences or escape conviction altogether. Such tales make explosive fodder for activist campaigns — and such campaigns are more likely to be successful when the opposition only needs 41 votes. But when a president doesn’t have to reach across the aisle, there is less fear of such attacks, and more freedom to select a nominee of the president’s choosing.

[The one thing these senators can agree on: They’re about to do something very bad]

Implicit in my discussion is that I don’t believe a 60-vote rule really gives us “moderate” nominees. Rather it gives us nominees of a particular stripe: Folks with very traditional types of experience who have managed to avoid controversy. It further privileges judges over non-judges, executive branch officials over legislators, and prosecutors over criminal defense lawyers. Judge Merrick Garland is a fine jurist and a decent man, but I don’t think we want a Court of Garlands. I welcome a system in which it will be easier to confirm the likes of Jane Kelly, Bill Pryor, Pam Karlan and Randy Barnett.

The above concerns the effect of triggering the nuclear option on nominations when the Senate and the White House are held by the same party. But what of divided government? There are two possibilities. One is a scenario in which the White House faces a choice: Pick someone from across the aisle (as President Herbert Hoover did with Benjamin Cardozo and President Dwight D. Eisenhower did with William Brennan) or pick a nominee who will twist in the wind until the next election. That’s probably the most likely scenario — and the judiciary will be the worse for it.

A second, albeit less likely, possibility is an effort to reestablish norms for judicial confirmations. After the filibuster is permanently eliminated once and for all, each side will have the assurance as to the rules of the road during unified government. The question will then become whether there is any interest in clarifying the rules for divided government as well so that nominations can proceed at a more orderly pace.

The best way to set a new equilibrium, in my opinion, would be to adopt a set of rules governing nominations that generally assures all nominees get orderly consideration at all time, but to make these rules effective after the next intervening election (e.g., in 2021) so that neither party knows who gets the better end of the deal. Structured this way, Senate negotiators could focus on what serves the broader interest of a well-functioning judiciary, instead of whether one side wins or loses.

President George W. Bush outlined some potential rules for nominations in a 2002 speech. I like his proposal, insofar as it was designed to ensure each nominee gets an up-or-down vote, but I suspect it paid too little attention to senatorial prerogative — and in particular the “blue slip” — to be viable. I am no fan of the blue slip policy (the requirement that both senators from a given state approve a nominee for a judicial seat from that state before that nominee may proceed), but I recognize its value in giving senators some skin in the judicial nominations game. If further entrenchment of this Senate prerogative is necessary for any such deal, so be it. Even a deal that allows localized obstruction through blue slips would be better than a de facto freeze on judicial nominations the next time we face divided government.

I have no illusion this latter scenario will happen, but I do think such a scenario could be within reach. If Sens. Charles E. Grassley (R-Iowa) and Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) were to recognize that we all lose from continued obstruction, perhaps they could broker a deal laying out rules that would take effect in 2021. It’s early enough that no one knows who would lose from such a deal, but what we do know is that the nation and the judiciary would win.

Originally Found On: http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/volokh-conspiracy/wp/2017/04/05/thoughts-on-the-judicial-nominations-mess-and-nuclear-fallout/

[wolfandpravato]

Thoughts on the judicial nominations mess and nuclear fallout

Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) speaks to reporters on Capitol Hill. (J. Scott Applewhite/Associated Press)

Barring the unexpected, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) on Friday will seek to invoke cloture on the nomination of Neil Gorsuch to the U.S. Supreme Court, a majority of Senate Democrats will vote to filibuster the nomination by opposing cloture, and McConnell will seek a majority vote to reinterpret the Senate rules to preclude a nomination filibuster as then-Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-Nev.) did in 2013.

How did we get here?

In my opinion, the story of judicial nominations over the past 30 years is a story of repeated, escalating retaliation. Instead of tit-for-tat, it’s been (tit+X)-for-tat. At each turn, each party has escalated as much as it thought it could get away with, tearing down norms and breaking precedents over again. Put another way, senators from both parties have acted like two kids in the back seat of a car, taking turns hitting each other, with each “punching back twice as hard.” After trading enough blows, how it started is almost irrelevant.

Different people trace the beginnings of this current cycle of retaliation to different points. In my view, it began in the mid-1980s, when Senate Democrats decided that they should do more to oppose President Ronald Reagan’s nominees because they were too ideological — a decision that was reported in The Post at the time. I explain this and discuss what happened since in this post from 2013. Whether Senate Democrats were justified in their action is irrelevant at this point, as it’s been almost all downhill since. There are no clean hands.

[A (probably futile) plea for sanity in the Senate]

2013, of course, is when Reid invoked the so-called nuclear option (a.k.a. the #ReidRule). As it happened, I wrote one post just before Reid’s decision to go nuclear, and one just after, discussing the fallout. Among other things, I noted that there was no reason to expect the new rule to be limited to lower-court nominations, and that whichever party needed to eliminate the filibuster to allow a Supreme Court nomination to go through would take that step.

Assuming that McConnell has the votes to follow Reid’s lead, what will the fallout be from the decision to go nuclear? There will be hard feelings and recriminations, just as there were before, but what else? One counterintuitive possibility is that it could actually help de-escalate the judicial nomination wars. I also suspect it might help increase the diversity of the Supreme Court.

For one thing, eliminating the filibuster for Supreme Court nominations will alter the calculus on who to nominate to the Supreme Court. Prospective nominees will need only 51 votes. This means that the prospect of blocking a president’s nominee when the Senate is controlled by the same party would decline dramatically. It will be much harder to get 50 votes in such situations than to get 41.

If the likelihood of blocking a nominee declines, then the value of obstruction efforts will decline as well. If the value of obstruction declines, then we would expect the investment by outside groups in obstruction to decline as well (though such resources might be shifted to other things, such as influencing elections that would affect nominations). Thus, we might see less effort to, for instance, demonize candidates, dig up dirt from their pasts, or tar nominees as out of the mainstream.

If it’s harder to obstruct nominees, we might also see a willingness to consider nominees with less-traditional qualifications. That is, we might see presidents willing to nominate people who have done things other than work in the executive branch and sit on the federal bench. We might also see presidents more willing to nominate people who have done cause work or expressed controversial opinions.

One common complaint about the Supreme Court is the relative lack of diversity in the experience of the current justices. All but one served as federal appellate judges, and most worked in the executive branch or as prosecutors, but there is not a single justice with real criminal defense experience.

One reason presidents might be reluctant to put forward nominees with criminal defense experience is that such nominees are easy to demonize (as was done with Judge Jane Kelly) and misrepresent. If a criminal defense attorney was good at his or her job, then that attorney will have helped some not-nice people get reduced sentences or escape conviction altogether. Such tales make explosive fodder for activist campaigns — and such campaigns are more likely to be successful when the opposition only needs 41 votes. But when a president doesn’t have to reach across the aisle, there is less fear of such attacks, and more freedom to select a nominee of the president’s choosing.

[The one thing these senators can agree on: They’re about to do something very bad]

Implicit in my discussion is that I don’t believe a 60-vote rule really gives us “moderate” nominees. Rather it gives us nominees of a particular stripe: Folks with very traditional types of experience who have managed to avoid controversy. It further privileges judges over non-judges, executive branch officials over legislators, and prosecutors over criminal defense lawyers. Judge Merrick Garland is a fine jurist and a decent man, but I don’t think we want a Court of Garlands. I welcome a system in which it will be easier to confirm the likes of Jane Kelly, Bill Pryor, Pam Karlan and Randy Barnett.

The above concerns the effect of triggering the nuclear option on nominations when the Senate and the White House are held by the same party. But what of divided government? There are two possibilities. One is a scenario in which the White House faces a choice: Pick someone from across the aisle (as President Herbert Hoover did with Benjamin Cardozo and President Dwight D. Eisenhower did with William Brennan) or pick a nominee who will twist in the wind until the next election. That’s probably the most likely scenario — and the judiciary will be the worse for it.

A second, albeit less likely, possibility is an effort to reestablish norms for judicial confirmations. After the filibuster is permanently eliminated once and for all, each side will have the assurance as to the rules of the road during unified government. The question will then become whether there is any interest in clarifying the rules for divided government as well so that nominations can proceed at a more orderly pace.

The best way to set a new equilibrium, in my opinion, would be to adopt a set of rules governing nominations that generally assures all nominees get orderly consideration at all time, but to make these rules effective after the next intervening election (e.g., in 2021) so that neither party knows who gets the better end of the deal. Structured this way, Senate negotiators could focus on what serves the broader interest of a well-functioning judiciary, instead of whether one side wins or loses.

President George W. Bush outlined some potential rules for nominations in a 2002 speech. I like his proposal, insofar as it was designed to ensure each nominee gets an up-or-down vote, but I suspect it paid too little attention to senatorial prerogative — and in particular the “blue slip” — to be viable. I am no fan of the blue slip policy (the requirement that both senators from a given state approve a nominee for a judicial seat from that state before that nominee may proceed), but I recognize its value in giving senators some skin in the judicial nominations game. If further entrenchment of this Senate prerogative is necessary for any such deal, so be it. Even a deal that allows localized obstruction through blue slips would be better than a de facto freeze on judicial nominations the next time we face divided government.

I have no illusion this latter scenario will happen, but I do think such a scenario could be within reach. If Sens. Charles E. Grassley (R-Iowa) and Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) were to recognize that we all lose from continued obstruction, perhaps they could broker a deal laying out rules that would take effect in 2021. It’s early enough that no one knows who would lose from such a deal, but what we do know is that the nation and the judiciary would win.

Originally Found On: http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/volokh-conspiracy/wp/2017/04/05/thoughts-on-the-judicial-nominations-mess-and-nuclear-fallout/

[game-refraction]

Game Review: Resident Evil 7 - Biohazard (PS VR)

  I opened the door to the cellar and descended down the stairs. Even before my first foot was placed firmly on the wooden plank below I could hear a heavy erratic breathing and creaking of stairs below me. Soon after hearing those disturbing noises, all while surrounded in pitch black darkness, small white arms appeared, attached to a small thin body that crawled up the stairs towards me. She lunged up at me and laughed as she picked me up and threw me back up through the door frame. I got to my feet to attempt to get away, but she charged at me, knife in hand, and starting slashing away at me, grinning the whole time.

Resident Evil 7: Biohazard brings its survival horror via a first person perspective. While this isn’t the first time the franchise has had this viewpoint, it is a new concept to the main numbered series. This perspective brings with it a new way to explore a Resident Evil game while also allowing it to return to its roots and lean far more on fear than straight-out action. Resident Evil 7 is nearly a masterpiece and a solid return to form.

As different as one would think a first person Resident Evil game would play, there is so much here that echoes that of the original 1996 PlayStation release. You still have a protagonist armed with various forms of firepower, themed keys, complex puzzles, herb based medical supplies and a maze-like home that continues to give even when you think you’ve explored each and every corner.

The Resident Evil games have commercially and critically gone downhill since the 5th in the series, with its 6th entry being the worst received of the entire franchise. Resident Evil 4 had been one of the best-reviewed games in the series and a turning point for 3rd person shooters altogether. The balance of horror and action was sublime and many thought this was, in fact, a sign that the future of Resident Evil games were going to succeed, and boy were they wrong. The series then left a lot of its survival roots behind and focused more on the shooting aspects altogether thus turning the series into action horror than one of survival.

Back at E3 in 2015 there was a tech demo from Capcom called “Kitchen” and it was for the upcoming VR headset that would eventually be called PlayStation VR. This demo was then later on revealed to be a glimpse at what the future of what Resident Evil was going to be. It was clear then that Resident Evil was going to follow in the footsteps of several recent horror games and be presented as a first person game. Throughout my playthrough of RE7, I couldn’t help but see so many horror influences here, from movies and games like Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Outlast, P.T. and even Alien: Isolation. It also should be noted that many horror games throughout the years have borrowed from the original Resident Evil released back in 1996, so maybe we have just come full circle in who inspired who.

The basic structure of the story here is equally reminiscent to that of mid-2000 horror movies, with a few of those references I can’t mention due to ruining the core story, let alone the whole reason for the freaky things that go on here. You play as Ethan, a man who learns his dead wife Mia isn’t quite so dead and goes to Louisiana to track her down. You end up at the homestead of the Baker’s, a family that seems lifted right out from Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Almost the entirety of RE7 takes place at or around the Baker homestead, a location that has just as much creativity and mystery as the Spencer Estate did back in the original Resident Evil. There are themed keys and secret areas that unlock through your natural progression in the story, with a few locations that need some backtracking to locate or unlock once you’ve discovered a special key or lockpick. This location is the gift that just keeps on giving and it is these small intimate locations that trump the atmosphere you get in any open world game. The level design in RE7 is just superb and constantly had me paranoid around every corner, even when I knew the danger had passed.

Where the original Resident Evil had many things to kill, this is where RE7 sadly stumbles; enemy variety. You only have a small handful of enemy types and they can become more frustration than excitement. While I’ll get to my opinion on VR and non-VR later on, because there is a huge divide on quality there, the monsters tend to be more bullet sponges than anything else. You have what are called the “Molded” and these tar-like monsters come in upright on two legs or ones that tend to stay on all fours. These encounters on harder difficulty can be nightmarish and with the aiming system what it is, you’ll spend a ton of bullets taking them down or attempting to. There are also some large flying bugs later on that pretty much are limited to a few encounters and are not found in high numbers outside of those moments. Other than that, you have your boss encounters; Jack, Marguerite, Lucas and two more encounters I’ll not reveal. I’ve also seen a few encounters happen differently than that of my own, adding a bit of unpredictability to each playthrough, and creating a greater sense of paranoia when you don’t know what is going to happen.

Several encounters with the Baker family take place in VHS tapes that you’ll find and view during the roughly ten hour playthrough. These tapes are essentially playable scenes where you embody another character and see events that happened before you entered the Baker home. These tapes almost act as a time machine as you can effect things in the past to help Ethan in the present. One of those effects is unlocking a locked drawer early on by finding the lockpick at your feet at the start of the first VHS tape. Unlocking this drawer as Clancy will allow Ethan to benefit from what is in the drawer. There are a small handful of these tapes and each of them are vastly entertaining with one resembling something straight out of a saw movie.

The Baker family is easily the true highlight of the game as each member of this family is sick, twisted and just pure fun. The problem with a lot of the gaming industry is its lack of inclusion of genuine silliness in games. When the original Resident Evil came about, it featured awful voice acting, absurd situations and a campiness to it that garnered it a cult status. With lines like “That was too close. You were almost a Jill sandwich!” or “Jill, here’s a lockpick. It might come in handy if you, ‘the master of unlocking’, take it with you.” Both of which are famously remembered when discussing any cheesy dialogue from video games history and is right up there with “All your base are belong to us.”

Games like Outlast had you escape encounters instead of embracing them, putting the “survival” in survival horror. Resident Evil allows the use of powerful weaponry, so there is no need to stuff yourself into a locker and hope that whatever is chasing you didn’t notice you pop in there. While there are moments in RE7 that require you to hide, it is usually behind some sort of box, table or pile of debris. Bringing the heat to the Molded and said bosses, Ethan has access to various handguns, shotguns, a knife, grenade launcher, flamethrower, and more. Depending on the difficulty you’ve chosen you’ll find ammo littered around to use sparingly or just go Rambo on anything that moves.

There are some issues with regards to combat that can hurt the overall enjoyment. Some of the encounters when you are trying to escape can be a pain when you are boxed in, as there is no shove or dodge mechanic at all, forcing you to expend ammo when you really wanted to conserve it. Speaking of ammo, let’s discuss the best way to play Resident Evil 7; VR.

My first and full playthrough of RE7 was entirely in VR, from start to finish. After completing the game I booted it up in 4K on my PS4 Pro and started up a new game. Once I had to shoot down my first enemy, I suddenly realized that RE7 in non-VR just wasn’t nearly as good. Well, that’s not true, I realized that well before I had my first gun. The way the VR allows you to see your entire peripheral vision is unmatched as is the way it allows you to aim. In VR you only have to move your head small amounts to get that much-needed headshot and the cursor for doing so is far more apparent. Without VR I was struggling to get a solid shot and it was frustrating.

The way VR enhances Resident Evil 7 is incredible, and not once did I get sick or too dizzy to keep playing. Sure, I had a moment or two where I had to slow down and pause the game for a second, but eventually, I went three to four hours of straight play without becoming light-headed or nauseous. There are vast amounts of settings to enhance or assist in how VR works for you. RE7 does the same thing another VR game I’ve seen do, and that is fading in and out each time you move the right stick, this assists in turning so that the fluid movement doesn’t make you sick. It takes a while to get used to and turning it off resulted in getting dizzy real fast, so I recommend to stick with the default setting. There are several moments in the game that are not in VR and it pans out to a theater style view. These are moments when the camera must be directly focused on something and needs to prevent you from looking around. There are also several moments when you are knocked down or jump down to a lower location that results in a quick fade in and out.

Despite any issues with VR, I enjoyed the game far more with the added perspective and immersion that VR brings. Locations gave me a sense of claustrophobia that I didn’t feel when not wearing the headset. Locations and people felt far more real and made me truly appreciate this game for what they intended to do. When a character grabs your hand, you feel far more connected to them as opposed to just seeing it happen on screen. There are also several moments in the game where it gets right in your face, a design that is obviously crafted for VR in mind. About the only thing that VR doesn’t have that non-VR does is a full body given to Ethan, as well as shadows that accompany said body; VR has floating arms and no shadow given to Ethan.

Health is another issue that is problematic with VR and non-VR as it can be a visual nuisance on both, but a far bigger one in non-VR. Ethan has a pebble watch attached to his wrist, not joking, and it shows your health as you take hits and cuts from various foes. In VR this is a circle effect around you, growing more red the closer you are to death. in non-VR you have blood effects on the screen and should you even be at 90% health, there will be blood effects on the screen, annoying you. Ethan already has a watch to show his health, these effects could have been completely left out and had us rely on the watch until giving us some visual warning for extremely low health.

Visuals will vary depending on how you play Resident Evil 7. The Xbox One and PS4 versions are virtually identical, whereas the PS4 Pro’s 4K mode and PC versions are easily the best in terms of visuals. The VR approach on the PS4 is far less impressive due to the resolution restraints the headset has, but rest assured this is the best way to play this game – bar none. The locations are packed with detail, dirty and filthy and just impressive. Sinks are filled with dirty plates, cockroaches and various bits of food, equally detailed with hundreds of maggots. RE7 is an aesthetically pleasing game on all fronts.

After playing through the entire game in VR and a solid portion without, Resident Evil 7 is superb regardless of platform. I will state that my 4.5/5 rating of the game is for its VR offerings and my experience with RE7 not in VR rates a solid 3.5/5. The game is just vastly better in VR in terms of difficulty, immersion, and function. Playing Resident Evil 7 in VR was thrilling, terrifying, and made me paranoid with each step. There are so many settings to make sure that your VR experience is an enjoyable one, it makes me wish that games like Robinson Journey, a game made solely for VR, would offer as many settings there to allow me to enjoy it without feeling ill. While my experience with it not in VR may be the result of a ‘been there done that’ approach to a second playthrough, I didn’t feel nearly as scared or immersed in my surroundings, because well, these locations were not really around me and neither were the threats looking to soak up my bullets. If you have been on the fence about purchasing a Playstation VR, well, this is that killer app that makes the purchase, albeit an expensive one, worth it.

Resident Evil 7 is a solid return to form for the Resident Evil series, a horror game that while not terribly original has us all excited about taking another trip to this once wonderful franchise, and that, regardless of any platform, is a very good thing indeed.

To get a taste of what Resident Evil 7 offers, check out the following trailer. As is the case with all the launch trailers surrounding this game, it does contain a lot of scenes from later on in the game, so huge caution for spoilers and story elements I’ve kept quiet on in this review, you have been warned.

  Game Review: Resident Evil 7 – Biohazard (PS VR) was originally published on Game-Refraction