#like... the other ones are so SWEARY

[woodaba]

The Copied Cathedral: Drakengard

In September 2022, something odd happened. 

A group of talented NieR: Automata modders released footage of a church they added to the game on reddit and twitter. It was a pretty big accomplishment - Automata’s engine is difficult to work with, and many players with a cursory familiarity with it felt that this kind of addition to the game was unfeasible, so for something of this scale to be created represented a shift in the landscape of NieR modding. However, this achievement was practically rendered irrelevant by the way in which they chose to reveal their work: an arg/”hoax” wherein they pretended to “discover” the mysterious church in an unmodded copy of the game, presenting it as a long-hidden easter egg. 

This gained unusual traction. This kind of thing happens a lot, but I’ve rarely seen it gather the kind of steam the copied cathedral did. The collective practiced cynicism of the internet, as well as the increasingly white-box nature of our favourite games, reliably helps quash the kinds of rumors that would easily gain traction on the playground, when it was much harder for someone to definitively prove you a liar when you claimed to have climbed aboard a rocket and shot off into space to find Deoxys in Pokemon Emerald. And I think there’s a pretty clear reason for this: anytime anyone expressed scepticism over the church and its impracticalities, they were met with the same refrain.

“It’s Yoko Taro. Of course he would do something like this.” 

This refrain remained intact even when how people engaged with the modders’ work changed. In the beginning, it was “It’s Yoko Taro. Of course he would include an easter egg that people would only find 5 years later!” When it became clear that the cathedral did not, in fact, exist in the game, it became “It’s Yoko Taro. Of course he would craft an ARG to tease future NieR content.”

As someone who has had a relationship with Taro’s oeuvre since playing NieR at 14 years old, this was all very confusing to me. Because the Yoko Taro that I thought I knew didn’t do stuff like this. None of his games were ever advertised with any kind of obscure ARG disseminated through social media. His games didn’t really have obscure secret content that remained secret for years after the fact. I thought Yoko Taro was a guy who directed games with sweary, murderous protagonists connected to each other through intricate lorebooks that never left Japan…and showed up to promote Drakengard 3 as a sock puppet. Without my realizing it, what “Yoko Taro” was had changed, and he had become, in the eyes of many, a kind of mystical trickster, whose mad genius was simultaneously incomparable and unpredictable, whilst also falling into neat patterns that were easily and instantly recognisable. 

Did I miss where these collectively agreed readings of Taro and his work came from? And if not, where did this perception of Yoko Taro come from? 

When did Yoko Taro become Yoko Taro?

In The Copied Cathedral Branch A: Anarchy in the UK

It seems appropriate, somehow, when talking about Drakengard, to start at the very end. That’s where the conversation often begins and ends, isn’t it? In the public consciousness, this game is practically a footnote, an inciting incident to the more significant, more complete work; this is the game that led, in one of its endings, to NieR, and in turn, to NieR: Automata.

This history weighs heavily on Drakengard. It’s practically impossible to imagine anyone experiencing it now without some knowledge of how it connects to the various strands of Yoko Taro’s Cinematic Universe. I’m very much included in that - “Ending E leads to NieR” was the first thing I learned about Drakengard, and it was the curiosity over what that meant that led me to the game. It’s unfortunate, then, that this approach completely inverts what Ending E of Drakengard actually is - a joke. 

Going through the experience of unlocking Ending E and playing it for yourself makes this so clear in a way that hearing about it second-hand will never quite manage. You have to go through the painstaking task of finding every single weapon - some of which have requirements so arbitrary and obscure as to practically necessitate a guide - only to unlock an ending where absolutely none of them are required. You play a rhythm game to the tune of the game’s deliberately abrasive and discordant soundtrack, and then are unceremoniously shot down. And in case there was any doubt left, the game laughs at you after thanking you for playing.

In context, this is a prank played on completionists, a surprise sucker-punch that revels in what a stunning anticlimax it is. Good job, buddy! Thanks for spending hours of your life pressing square-square-square-triangle, or maybe circle if you’re nasty. Here’s your reward: a confirmation that you wasted your fucking time. 

And to be clear: I think that’s great. It’s a joke that just gets funnier the more it builds throughout the rhythm game section - starting off easy, and remaining manageable throughout, until you finally reach a section that is so unbelievably difficult practically out of nowhere, pulling the rug out from under you just as you’ve managed to stumble to your feet. It’s audaciously mean, and utterly wonderful. 

But Ending E isn’t a surprise anymore - it’s the most famous part of the game. Ending E of Drakengard is, now, the opening notes of one of the most beloved - and lucrative - series’ in Square Enix’s roster. For most people who play the game now, it’ll be the reason they’re here, either literally, or metaphorically, as their NieR curiosity brings them to this title. For NieR fans, this is not an anticlimax punchline to hours of tedious weapons collecting. This is the final battle between The Dragon and The Queen Beast, a battle fought in terms incomprehensible to the fragile human psyche, ground zero for White Chlorination Syndrome and the Legion, and the beginning of the end of the human race. The fact that I can come out with that jargon without having to take a trip to the NieR wiki demonstrates that I too, am infected with the future history of Taro et al’s work, work that has collectively robbed this sucker punch of its impact, and turned it into the most laboured Marvel Cinematic Universe teaser in the history of the medium. What a terrible thing to do to something you helped create. 

I don’t mean this to say that the mere existence of NieR has destroyed the intentions of Drakengard, but history’s shadow has undoubtedly fallen heavy on this game, obscuring a lot of  what it actually is, even down to what the minute-to-minute play of the game is actually accomplishing. 

The common reading of the game these days is that it is intentionally unpleasant to play in order to comment on or satirize violence in video games. I can see it! Drakengard’s combat is often described as monotonous, but I don’t think that’s quite right. True monotony would turn it into routine, and could potentially allow the player to sink into a flow state that makes the game drift past you. Instead, the game is interested in creating little sticking points that force you to keep yourself present in the fight. Whether it’s long-range attackers, the game’s propensity for enemies to strike at you from outside of the camera’s vision, or scattering enemies in among the packs that require you to approach them slightly differently, the game manages to keep its killing a conscious, methodical act, never letting them forget about the things they’re doing to others. 

But how different is this from its contemporaries? Many of the features I’ve described here - a camera that doesn’t always effectively every threat, parceling out enemy encounters into smaller waves - aren’t unique to Drakengard, but are common to many of its contemporaries on the PS2. In particular, Drakengard does not feel noticeably more abrasive than the PS2 Dynasty Warriors games that the ground battles are in direct conversation with. It’s not identical - Drakengard choosing to strip out the light strategy framing of Dynasty Warriors to focus entirely on killing enemies is notable - but playing a Warriors game alongside Drakengard made the latter feel less like satire of the former and more like imitation - the sincerest form of flattery. If Drakengard is boring, it might simply be because the form it is most closely emulating has often struggled being a critical darling. In fact, for a certain generation of people, the musou form is practically gaming’s biggest and most laughable punching bag. 

This accusation of the combat being, in some sense, deliberately unfun, in particular, largely fails to explain the dragon-riding sections. In the hybrid levels - where you can hop aboard your dragon to rain death from the skies - it arguably acquits itself in this context well enough, particularly with the choice to use an awkwardly close-up camera angle that frames you above the ground but close enough to it to see bodies flying from every fireball and explosion you cause. Anti-air attacks are common and send you flying off your dragon, a consciously annoying friction which again forces you to remain in the current moment and avoid zoning out. But equally, this friction often comes with it a straightforward payoff - the satisfaction of, having eliminated any anti-air threats, of hopping back on your dragon and incinerating an entire platoon of soldiers. Less interesting is the dedicated dogfight missions. Here, there is no sense of weight to the violence at all, and the enemies themselves are so abstract - often being literal evil cubes that shoot lasers at you - that it’s hard to derive any sense of humanity from them. It can definitely be read as an extension of the slight abstraction of the violence that happens when you hop on your dragon during the ground missions - we’re so far above the violence now that we can’t even see the viscera that is so present on the ground - but that just ends up ringing hollow for me. 

No, I ultimately think that Drakengard’s air combat is engaging in very straightforward, very traditional ways. I enjoy it. In particular, the weight of the Dragon itself makes those moments where you swoop down to let loose a volley of lasers genuinely thrilling, in a kind of way that even contemporaries like Panzer Dragoon don’t quite emulate. And yet, despite these sections comprising a significant portion of the game’s runtime - around a third unless you’re going for 100% completion - they seem to elide the conversation surrounding this game as a satirical work. The fairly straightforward video-gamey thrills of flying a big dragon around and shooting lasers at monsters and evil imperial airships would seem to simply be somewhat inconvenient when attempting to explain Drakengard as a deliberately boring game.

I’m being cheeky here, I know. But I do think there is a huge sword of damocles, with the words “PS2 GAMES KINDA PLAYED LIKE THIS A LOT” etched into it, that hangs over anyone reading Drakengard as tedious on purpose. For all that the PS2 and its library is often lauded as one of the high points in the entire history of the medium, growing up owning one didn’t mean you were playing a Resident Evil 4 every time you put a disc into your console. Sometimes you came home from the game shop with something that played quite a bit like Drakengard.

This commonality it shares with its contemporaries is core to what I think Drakengard is actually doing with its violence. I am not suggesting that Drakengard is not abrasive at all, because to suggest they is to ignore what’s happening on the aesthetic layer, particularly the utterly phenomenal score composed by Nobuyoshi Sano and Takayuki Aihara, which is not only probably the best thing about Drakengard, it’s probably one of the best in the medium. Making use of discordant, cut-up, and repeated samples of classical music, the soundtrack drapes the entire game in an uncomfortably dissonant air without falling into completely atonal noise.

Similarly, the dialogue that plays over the gameplay, while presented in a manner not dissimilar from Dynasty Warriors, is of a very different tone, even if it is equally unsubtle. Priests crying out that the world is ending, rival dragon riders going mad, dragons remarking about the worthlessness of humanity and your cause…It isn’t quite Cao Cao talking about how big his brain and dick is, even if it operates on a similar register.

This is an aesthetic dissonance that highlights the ludonarrative resonance that drives the game. It is also a reasonably common maneuver. If you’ve ever played a game with a sad piano track playing out over a boss battle, you’ve seen this before, though admittedly rarely on this kind of scale. Drakengard is less interested in being truly aberrant as it is in this kind of aesthetic dissonance bringing the genre’s assumptions into relief.

This helps explain why some might find the story of Drakengard far simpler than its reputation - or the reputation of its director - might suggest. An evil empire is conquering the world and destroying a series of Seals in order to awaken some dark gods, and the protagonists would prefer if that didn’t happen. It is, quite consciously, an extremely stock video game plot. The difference, of course, is that said protagonists are led by Caim, whose personality, goals, passions, hobbies and sexual fetishes can all be described the same way: “killing imperial soldiers”. Drakengard sees the two points common to the collective idea of the archetypal JRPG hero - dead parents and a high bodycount - and draws a direct line between them, constantly underscoring that Caim is wholly uninterested in protecting the world, and acts in the game entirely to express the trauma of his parents dying in front of him.

(Actually, side note - one part of that isn’t quite true; the game is surprisingly resistant to the claim that Caim’s enjoyment of killing is in any way sexually motivated. It’s just not something the game wants to touch. The game exclusively uses sex and sexuality as a point of straightforward horror and taboo-crossing in a way that is quite revealing. More on this in a moment.) 

Angelus is Caim’s dragon partner, and an absolute riot. She’s almost everyone’s favourite character in Drakengard, and it’s very easy to see why: she drifts above much of the emotional conflict of the narrative, commenting and mocking it in equal turns, like a one-dragon greek chorus, or, if you prefer, a fire-breathing Statler & Waldorf. Crucially though, she remains invested enough in the narrative to never become an annoying figure of detachment. She’s not riffing on things, like a Marvel character might, as if she’s not part of the same world as the rest of the cast, she just has very little patience for the affairs of humans despite her forced entrapment within them. It’s a very delicate balancing act to walk, writing this kind of character without making them irritating, and it's a testament to the script, and particularly the performance, that Angelus comes across so well. Mona Marshall’s dub Angelus is pitch-perfect, infusing her dialogue with a careful balance of righteous, haughty indignation and weary resignation that makes her an absolute delight to listen to as she mocks the worthless humans you and her are roasting with dragonfire, especially once notes of affection towards Caim begin to creep into her character. In a dub of mixed virtues, she’s consistently fantastic, and it speaks volumes that despite this kind of side-glance to the audience becoming a recurring theme in Taro’s work, it's never as successful as it is with Angelus. 

Alongside Caim we have Furiae and Inuart, the central love triangle that drives the narrative. Furiae is Caim’s sister, and the Goddess; a pure shrine maiden whose enforced chastity seals away the Empire’s dark gods. She’s also completely infatuated with Caim, who pointedly avoids confronting her incestuous feelings towards him throughout the game, even as her longing and desperation for him builds and builds, to the point that even Angelus comments on it. Inuart is Furiae’s betrothed, a soft-spoken bard whose sexual frustration at and jealousy of Caim leads him to become brainwashed and turn evil. And then there’s Manah, the game’s villain - an evil little girl who, after being rejected by her mother in favor of her twin brother Seere, turns to the Empire’s evil gods for the love that she has been denied, becoming their possession and instrument in the world. 

This is the actual core theme of Drakengard - that of rejection and resentment, unprocessed, unexpressed, unrequited feelings left to fester and rot, turning outwards onto the world itself, of this kind of unfulfilled need being the origin of violence in the world. For all the hyperbolic claims of Drakengard’s essential horror, it all settles into such a disappointingly neat and straightforward freudian framework. Every character - aside from Angelus - is fundamentally reducible to their singular freudian frustration. This makes the game’s perspective somewhat limited, but also makes it incredibly clear and transparent - there’s no avoiding these taboos. 

It’s not that this is entirely bad - I actually think Caim and Furiae’s relationship in particular is extremely effective, the obviousness of the taboo being brought into sharp relief by how Caim simply refuses to engage with it, letting the emotions fester and fester until, at the point when they are directly stated to him and he can no longer pretend that he cannot see them, his final rejection really hits hard. I particularly like that the game is uncharacteristically ambiguous on the point of whether or not Caim reciprocates Furiae’s feelings, which brings a messiness to how their relationship ends that really works. But by and large, the game is so laser focused on the binary contradiction of each character’s familial trauma, they always break in the exact same way, and it reveals just how little the game actually has to say on its own central topic. 

This becomes particularly apparent once you look at the other playable characters, who aren’t so much one-note as they have about half a note to share between them. Leonard is a kindly and empathetic priest who also happens to be a pedophile. There’s Arioch, a jokerfied elf cannibal who eats babies because she was driven insane by losing her womb in her pact. And then there’s Seere, a young boy who will remain a young boy forever thanks to his own pact. He becomes friendly with Leonard. Each of these characters will send you on side-stories that all feature you slaughtering children.

It’s not just that the transgression here is largely shallow, it's that it's the same transgression, over and over. The conflict between the central trio at the very least is driven by exploration of a theme of unrequited love and the enforcement of taboo reaching a breaking point - for the rest of the cast, there is nothing there except for the taboo, and the taboo encompasses their entire characters. Arioch is a particular low point: the outrageous misogyny inherent in the depiction of a woman being driven completely insane by losing the ability to reproduce is self-evident, as is the game’s complete lack of sympathy for her in comparison with even Caim, but it’s everywhere when it comes to these characters. You can just imagine the sneer on the game’s face as they describe Leonard, the “aha! Isn’t that fucked up!” of quality of the reveal that the nicest member of the party is actually a pedophile. For all that I am willing to be sincere in my engagement with the game’s exploration of familial violence, there really isn’t anything to the missions where you engage in mass slaughter of child soldiers other than “isn’t this fucked up”. And I don’t object to it being fucked-up: my problem is that it’s so one-note that it isn’t fucked up at all. The shock is so surface level that it becomes boring extremely quickly. It’s all so fucking teenage. 

Put a pin in that. 

What the game does gain by how incredibly loud and unsubtle it all is, is that it becomes impossible to ignore. The viscera of the relationship drama is as in-your-face as the viscera of Caim’s violence, and achieves the same effect as the game’s soundtrack (though, less effectively than that). How surface-level it all is may make Drakengard largely unsatisfying to consider on these terms, but it is effectively oppressive, and I think that is key to why the game lingers in the memory. 

As the game goes on, its narrative begins to fray at the seams, sometimes in disappointing ways, and sometimes in delightful ways. The game’s standard ending is fine enough, and sings when it caps off the burgeoning romance between a murderboy and his dragon in an oddly sweet and earnest manner. Caim and Angelus’ odd and sad relationship is easily my favorite part of the game’s narrative, and is, interestingly, something director Yoko Taro fought against depicting in this way, by his own admission. Taro wanted Caim to be as a parasite to Angelus (interestingly, a reversal of the relationship between the Dragon and its rider in Panzer Dragoon, where the will of the rider was subsumed unconsciously by the will of the Dragon), but at the suggestion of producer Takuya Iwasaki, scenario writer Sawako Natori imbues their relationship with an earnest romance without dodging some of the more toxic suggestions of it, and it ends up being the highlight of the game’s writing. It is worth noting, when considering the direction of future games in this series, that almost all of the game’s most effective moments come from treating the relationships with sincerity instead of shock. 

But of course, this isn’t really the end. As would become tradition for the games in the Drakengard/NieR lineage, the game offers a series of branching routes that lead to different endings. As the series would go on, this tradition would become increasingly superfluous, wielded more as an aesthetic and expectation than anything else, but in Drakengard, there remains something exciting about it, as each branch splits further and further from this relatively sedate ending until you finally arrive at the punchline that we all now know is coming. 

Route B feels like the “truest” ending to the game, engaging most with the themes of toxic affection that end up driving the plot. Inuart tries to resurrect Furiae, and does so…but as a monster that kills him, grows giant, and has to be put down by the player. Caim finally confronts his sister and their relationship in the only way he can: murdering her enormous, twisted, eikon. It’s a classic gothic move, but it's the twist of the knife of the route’s final shot, the sky being filled with countless more Furiae monsters, that is distinctly Drakengard. It’s fitting that the game’s theme song plays at the end of this route, rather than the others. This feels like the end of the road for these characters, so it's no surprise that the following routes feel more like we’re veering off that road into far stranger and far sillier territory. 

Route C, on the other hand, is a total misfire. If the last route was the one that felt like it most naturally emerges from the themes of the narrative, then this is the opposite - the one where the entirely offscreen Dragon species decide apropos of nothing that, actually, they’d like to conquer the world, and so Caim and Angelus must do battle. The two lovers battling to the death should be something really impactful, but ends up as a baffling wasted opportunity. Without the care and investment the scenario brings to these characters elsewhere, Route C is a glimpse into a version of Drakengard that didn’t have the touches of earnest investment that elevates these ludicrous mean-spirited caricatures - a hugely boring video game. I’d say that it would be better if it had been cut from the game entirely…if not for how the feeling of the narrative being derailed in this way lays the groundwork for the game’s incredible - and I mean that in both senses of the word - climax.

Branch D is probably the most iconic part of Drakengard, and it is definitely the part of the game that left the greatest impression on me when I first saw it as an 18-year old. Here, the involvement of Manah’s twin Seere makes things with his sister even worse, as he regards Manah’s desire for affection with horror and tells his Golem to kill her, which the God possessing Manah does not take kindly to. Thematically, the route ends here: another rejection, another breakdown in familial bonds - and interestingly, a parallel drawn between Seere and Caim’s respective emotional stuntedness towards the feelings of their sister being drawn but never developed - leading to disaster. You could see a version of Drakengard that has the same approach as Branch B, simply cutting off at the point at which the doom of humanity becomes obvious, but delightfully, the game simply keeps going, setting its final few chapters in the invasion of the Watchers - who, of course, are giant stone babies. 

Of course, here we return to the problem of the future. It's not just that this turn has been spoiled - plenty of works, even the majority, retain their power even after they have been spoiled. Contrary to the opinion of the most annoying guy in your film class, knowing what “Rosebud” is does not actually make Citizen Kane less electrifying. But the power of Branch D is, to me, entirely within the shock value of it. Its excitement is in the sense of how completely the narrative has been derailed. When you know about the giant babies ahead of time, the shock of their appearance is less effective. 

However, unlike Ending E, whose intention I do think is somewhat obliterated by the context by which most players will find it, I actually think the conscious anticipation of this moment by a player of Drakengard coming from the present day won’t rob them of the effect, because the audacity of it all is still enjoyable. It’s an absurd literalization of the game’s shallowest engagement with familial love and desire as violent: evil babies that are going to eat you all…and that you must slaughter in their dozens to survive. I remember showing this scene to friends when I got to it, purely and straightforwardly to say “look how weird and fucked up this is!”, and see their reaction to it, devoid of all the context of the game leading up to this point, which I think is telling. It wasn’t important to me that they knew that this was a game filled with the need for love turning violent. It was important that they see just how weird these evil babies were.

There was a point in my life where, for those around me, the funniest type of joke in the world was the erstwhile Dead Baby Joke, a type of joke where the punchline is always, in some form, a dead baby. The punchline here is pure, naked transgression - you can’t joke about a dead baby! It’s the same kind of impulse that makes swearing when you are a kid fun, of sneaking into a movie the age certificate declares you too old for, and approximately 95% of the reason anyone plays Grand Theft Auto - the fun of breaking boundaries for the sheer thrill of breaking boundaries. And in a game that has made the transgression of taboo the core of its entire being, this feels not like an elaboration of its themes so much as the literalization of them in the most audacious way possible - the invasion of the dead babies.

It’s worth comparing this to the series that Drakengard is perhaps most in aesthetic conversation with aside from Dynasty Warriors: Panzer Dragoon. While Ace Combat was the direct inspiration for the flight mechanics, Panzer Dragoon is the source of much of how they look and feel. And, interestingly, it too is a series that wrestled with the astronomically high bodycount of its game in Panzer Dragoon Saga, the third game in the series which reinvented itself as a to-this-day utterly unique RPG. Set decades after both of the previous games, but not so far that their events have fallen out of living memory, Saga reframed the events of those games as world-shaking historical events that have turned the Dragon into an icon of power not unlike a Weapon of Mass Destruction. Much of the plot of the middle stretch of the game is defined by the factions of the story attempting to control the era-defining power of the dragon, as much because of the fear and symbolic weight of the Dragon as its ability to shoot lasers. 

This reaches its head in one of the game’s best sequences, where the mayor of the hub town asks the player character to assault a nearby Imperial base with their dragon. The mayor knows that this won’t deal a major blow to the empire, but is attempting to demonstrate the use of the dragon as a deterrent against the empire’s moves to annex the town so that he can get elected as the new leader of the town. This, of course, backfires massively when the Empire responds to the threat of the Dragon by bringing their own Weapon of Mass Destruction to the frontline and wiping the town off the face of the map, an irreversible scar left on the game map, removing (almost) every single NPC and sidequest related to the town from the game, all in response to the threat the player and their dragon represents.

The difference here is that while Drakengard makes the violence of its central conflicts more visceral and obvious, Panzer Dragoon makes it more complicated and, ultimately, nuanced. But to frame this as a criticism rather than an explanation accuses Drakengard of seeking nuance as a goal, and failing, and I just don’t think that’s true. Despite Panzer Dragoon Saga’s Empire being about as hazily defined as Drakengard’s, it manages to make them feel like a real entity, one staffed by human beings that believe in their cause and react to the phenomena of the world around them . It’s telling, I think, that when you shoot down imperial vessels in Panzer Dragoon Saga, their crew cry out, often saluting the empire with their last breaths, but Drakengard’s mind-controlled masses of soldiers and their abstract vessels often give no reaction at all. There’s rarely a sense that these soldiers are meaningfully people, or that the Empire is anything other than a mass of bodies for Caim to slaughter. Panzer Dragoon Saga articulates violence as something that affects the world in ways beyond how much blood is spilt when someone swings a sword, while Drakengard is only ever interested in the blood itself, as an expression of the freudian frustrations of the characters. The viscera is the point, and the viscera is what Drakengard ultimately is. 

For all my sincere engagement with the game’s clear themes of taboo and familial conflict, there is a futility to it, because it’s so clear to me that first and foremost, the game is interested in the fun of transgressing these taboos within a largely accessible framework. The thrills of Drakengard are the thrills of watching a Saw movie, the audacity of them actually doing that…the enjoyment of a dead baby joke. This might all sound like an insult, but I promise it isn’t. A couple of years ago, I made a youtube video about edgy PS2 games, where I argued that these kinds of games with self-consciously edgy aesthetics are valuable for the straightforwardness of their rebellious attitudes. Drakengard’s closest bedfellows, to me, are not Panzer Dragoon or Ace Combat or even Dynasty Warriors, but Jak II: Renegade, Prince of Persia: Warrior Within…and Shadow the Hedgehog. Transgression for the sake of enjoying transgression might indeed be shallow, but it is also profoundly worthwhile, especially for young people chafing at the condescending and limited avenues they are offered to engage with the world. Hell, it’s why I was drawn to NieR, when I played that as a 14 year old - I wanted something weird and different, for the weirdness and the difference. And for all my criticisms, I cannot deny just how good Drakengard is at this simple appeal. 

I feel a little like I’m engaging in some Sacred Cow butchery here, and to a certain extent that is a conscious thing. There’s so much received wisdom about Drakengard out there online that I do feel compelled to try to articulate what I think it is actually doing.in the final verdict, I ultimately like Drakengard a fair bit, and I do think it is worthwhile. But I don’t think it’s worthwhile because it is a wildly aberrant, abrasive work that challenges norms. I don’t think it has much to say about video games, and I don’t think it’s meant to be so bad it’s good. In fact, I think it is something that inshrines the norms it tackles in how fundamentally irreconcilable it views them. It is a straightforwardly effective bit of rebellion that we all need as teenagers, one that has a keen understanding of its target audience and their emotional needs. Games market themselves on offering illusions, of freedom and power, and Drakengard offers the illusion of rebellion against and excoriation of the status quo better than most any game I can imagine, and I think that is why it, ultimately, has become quite a popular game. It isn’t a surprise, the right kind of anger for a mass audience has always been popular. Never Mind the Bollocks, Its the Sex Pistols, for all that it declared itself oppositional to society’s norms, was ultimately extremely popular within them. It's loud, in your face, and guaranteed to get at least some kind of reaction out of an unsuspecting player. It is a dead baby joke, a loud, abrasive, screaming metal album played so loud that it pisses off your parents, an act of petulant, adolescent rebellion whose purpose never extends far beyond the rebellion itself. Show me someone who doesn’t see any appeal whatsoever in that, and I’ll show you someone who really needs to cut loose a little. But equally, show me someone who still thinks dead baby jokes are the height of comedy, and I’ll show you someone who needs to hear more jokes. 

in the copied cathedral ending a dead b[a]by jokes

[sourcherrybites]

Till time breaks apart. (1 out of 2, probably)

Character: Dick Grayson x Tamaranian! Fem! reader

Submission by @mourakitana "Please do if you are Starfire's sister and you love Dick very much and he is her ex, (if on one of the missions Dick and y/n's son come from the future)"

Disclaimers: Sorry for the sloppy ending. I imagine Reader being black (like Kory). Sweariing. Probably two chapters cuz I want to explore this reader more. DICK IS ROMANI RAAAAGHHH!!!!!!! (This is not relevant to the story but yes)

a/n: Chapter one of legally binding affairs is almost done, babes. I post this, and maybe in one or two days I'll post the chapter one.

Word count: 1,179

Masterlist

You were never quite like your sisters (also not planned, ijbol). Of course, being the youngest meant you had traits of both of them. Komand'r had taught you her ambition and Koriand'r her curious nature, but there was also something really weird about you. You were just too quiet. You lived in your own world, unbothered by your older sisters' doings, but you still had some special spark.

But let's talk about your time on Earth, that's what matters, after all.

Earth was fascinating, in your eyes, those childish, big and curious eyes, the soft warmth of the sun, the fields of grass, the melodic sounds of the countryside your new earth friends sometimes took you and your sister to, the stupid romance movies you saw to which everyone fell asleep to halfway, but not you, you saw them from beginning to the last credit rolling in the big screen of the titans' tower... and you were also fascinated by the smiley dark-haired boy who your sister fell for, but human movies and books had told you humans only loved one person for all their life (you were so young that you just rolled with it, slowly losing the free nature of Tamaran to the human culture) so you weren't even in the picture in your head.

So you kept the smiley face, teased and laughed as Koriand'r told you about her 'boyfriend', never telling her how much you wanted to be in her place, because he was just a boy and Earth had a lot of boys, and Kory was your sister, and you loved each other more than either of you would love anyone else, your love for Dick would never overcome your love for your sister. But Kory knew, and it pained her so much to see her little sister suffer for something normal in their homeland to human taboos.

As your friends turned into adults, you slowly drifted away from the superhero lifestyle, focusing on your studies of human art and music, though you still helped the Titans from time to time. You explored your curiosity with the help of your outworld gaze and became a renowned historian half the time and a bar singer the other half, living away from the public spotlight.

It was during one of those friendly reunions, the ones in which you just talked about your lives and catched up, at Wally's place that it was brought up a weird ancient dungeon found on the outskirts of Central City by a construction group.

"That's your Major, right?" He had inquired. "Actually, it isn't; my major is in art., so I don't think I'd be of much help," You chuckled nervously, sipping on your drink.

"Out of all of us, you are the one who understands this the most, Sweetcheeks." Garfield ruffled your hair. "Touch me again and I'm burning off your hand." You raised your fist before letting out a soft laugh and looking at your sister, who had placed her warm hand on your shoulder, making you sigh. "But...I guess I can give it a look." You reluctantly gave in, making the team cheer and clap and earning you a playful nudge from Grayson, whom you had, in fact, not forgotten in all these years, not even after his breakup with Kory.

The next morning you had all gotten into a jeep and driven over the said location, a drive during which Dick had sat incredibly and uncomfortably close to you, and during which his hand seemed hesitant to touch yours, you hated it, in every single one of your partners.

Luckily, your Stanford ID came in handy to allow you and the crew in the cave once you arrived. It was a big space, with long, thick pillars made of dark stone and a big platform right at the end, pretty similar to every ritual room you had seen during your college years. It is left unsaid that you warned the group not to touch anything.

It wasn't Something you'd recognise, even when you pulled out your phone to check for similar constructions on your university's database you found absolutely nothing. The architecture and the engravings on the walls weren't Native American, not pre-hispanic, not even Nordic or anything that made sense in this specific zone!

"Any ideas in that big brain of yours?" Dick said from behind you, making you squeak and jump in surprise. "Don't- do that, Grayson." You huffed, making him chuckle as you attempted to focus back on the room ━That's when Garfield, ever so smart, shouted, 'Check this out!' While pointing at a weird artefact that looked spot on like an hourglass.

"Looks like an hourglass," Wally murmured.

"No fucking shit, Sherlock." You huffed as you bent over to look at it closely. It was made of pure stone, and the crystal looked pretty much clean, but the thing that caught your attention was not only the weird appearance of the sand, like small stardust that produced UV light just by existing.

"There's something written on the edges, but I don't know what it means..." you mumbled, looking back at the group, accidentally meeting Dick's eyes, the same pair of sapphire eyes that had haunted your life since the first time you saw them. "Sorry. As I said, my major is not in ancient caves." You smiled sheepishly before the sound of the stone turning snapped your head right back to the hourglass.

The scripture on the hourglass and the walls started glowing far too brightly, cycling through every colour under the visible spectrum. The hourglass started spinning, gaining speed with each passing second.

"Out. Out. Out, " Dick grabbed your wrist; the rest of the group followed and quickly began sprinting away from the cave as the time seemed to slow down. Why was he touching you? Why did he look so concerned? Why did your heart flutter and your stomach spin? And why did you hear a sound similar to an arrow's whistle approaching you?

And then there was pain... Like a stab on your heart.

It was hot... Like you were in a sauna for far too long

And then there was light... Flashes of scenes that seemed oddly familiar.

And then silence and quietness... Before you felt the familiar warmth of your sister's hands pressing down on your chest over and over, you turned your head slowly to look at the man next to you, his hand still tightly wrapped around your wrist and a young, black-haired teenage girl doing chest compressions on him as well until he coughed out and gasped to which the girl threw one of her arms around Dick, hugging him tightly and the other went to grab your arm.

Between the blurred sounds of the chaos and the paramedics rushing into the space, you managed to make out.

"I thought I had lost you and mom..."

Mom? Mom!? This was worse than any low-budget drama you had ever seen. You had a daughter with Dick Grayson! And the little shit looked just like her father.

©sourcherrybites 2025

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Is it possible if we could get a chronically ill reader? As an autoimmune disease girly who deals with fibromyalgia as well, I would LOVE to see something like that on here :D love your stuff

Drained

about this; wc: 485 pairing: joaquin torres x gn!reader, contents: chronic illness, fibromyalgia flare up, fluff/hurt comfort, an: i did a little research & hopefully this lives up to your request! <3

danny ramirez characters masterlist

You wake up already exhausted.

Not just tired but bone-deep drained, like gravity has doubled overnight. Every joint feels swollen from the inside out, your muscles stiff and aching, nerves flaring under your skin like you’ve been sunburned by a storm. You shift just enough to breathe, and even that feels like too much.

There’s some comfort in knowing that Joaquin spent the night and that you haven’t woken up alone, but that can only do so much in the face of sheer pain.

“Shit,” you whisper, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Today’s not…it’s bad, Joaquin.”

Joaquin’s already moving before you finish the sentence. He doesn’t ask if you’re sure. He does say again? or I thought you were feeling better yesterday.

He just nods, voice gentle as soothing water when he says, “I’ve got you.”

He keeps the lights off and draws the curtains, before grabbing the heating pad from under the sink in your bathroom. He asks not a single question, already knowing the settings you prefer.

Your hoodie, the one soft enough to not set off the burning in your arms, is folded at the foot of the bed. He helps you sit up, one arm steady around your waist, the other adjusting your pillow because you can’t lift your arms without the pain cracking down your back.

“It hurts everywhere,” you admit, biting back tears. “Even my fucking hair hurts, I don’t know how that’s fucking possible.”

You get sweary when the pain is at its highest but it doesn’t phase him. He knows that it doesn’t have to do with him, it’s just your way of being cathartic. He stays tender and hushed.

“I know,” he says quietly, brushing his knuckles along your jaw without pressure. “You don’t have to pretend around me.”

He never makes you. That’s the thing about Joaquin—he doesn’t need you to be strong all the time to love you. He gets the fog in your head when words won’t come, the stiffness in your legs when you try to stand, the way you wince at a breeze that’s too cold or footsteps that are too loud. He doesn’t flinch when you cry. He just anchors you.

He hands you your meds with a cup of water, thumb brushing your wrist before letting go. “Breathe through it, cariño. I’m right here.”

You rest your head on his chest, the pain somehow sharp and dull all at once. But you focus on the steady rhythm of his heart under your ear. On his voice that wraps around you like a blanket, smooth and low as he reads something—he knows you’re not following the words, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not about distraction. It’s about presence.

With Joaquin, you never have to explain the ache that lives inside your skin.

He just knows.

And when everything feels too heavy, he’s the one thing that never is.

lmk if you wanna be on the joaquin torres taglist!

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @moonymeloncholymoney, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm, @peacefangirl

[fuzzybirdie]

Hero of Changing Faces

Warning, 'tis a bit sweary. Enjoy!

Ch.2 The MOTHERFUCKER Of All Time

The GODDAMN Joker was attacking the GODDAMN ammusement park in the middle of the GODDAMN school holidays! So Duke was a teensy bit pissed.

Today was supposed to be fun! Everyone, including Tim and Alfred, had made sure to clean up their scheduals enough for a family outing, and they managed to pull steph along as well!

Everything was going well so far too! Sure, Damian couldn't stop scoffing at this couple yelling 'Ghost!' All the time, and Tim and Jason were trying to one-up eachother at all the carnival games, (before being absoloutley demolished by cass), but it was fun! They Were having fun.

And then the motherfucker of all time hijacked the roller coaster.

Alfred had managed to sneak everyone's costumes into their day packs, probably foreseeing something going wrong. Either way, this meant that everyone could sneak away and change to fight the Joker.

After getting changed, Signal charged towards the announcer's booth, running into Nightwing on the way. Nightwing who looked pale and terrified. "B went ahead to the roller coaster!" Nightwing called. Ah, Signal's question must've been obvious.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Signal called back,

"Not as a civillian! He went in before it got hijacked!"

"Fuck!"

"Red, Orphan, and I are en route to the rollercoaster" Red Hood interupted "Robin's on his way to the announcer booth, and Spoiler is on evac duty,"

"Roger," Nightwing grappeled past a group escaping one of the rides, "Signal and I will randevous with robin. B is among the civillians on the roller coaster."

"Understood. We'll be in touch once the civvies are safe. Over and Out."

The announcer booth was surrounded by goons, who were taken care of easily enough. (Thank you, pepper spray bottles of sleeping gas!) Leaving the door wide open. Nightwing and Signal crept in, the only hint of their (re: Signal's) presence was the lights dimming and the shadows growing.

The Joker had set himself in the middle of the moniter room. He'd somehow found the time to inflate an air matress and was now lying down, eating popcorn, and kicking his legs like a schoolchild.

"Oh boo!" The Joker cried as the rollercoaster judded to a stop "they didn't even get halfway up! This show sucks!"

Robin took this moment to reveal himself both to his brothers and the Joker by attempting to skewer the latter through the arm. "Oh hi, little Robin!" Joker cackled as Robin missed "Come to watch the show? Though," he looked at where Robin's sword had punctured his matress "That was really rude. Guess I can kill you now!"

As Joker pulled out a gun to shoot at Robin, Signal manipulated the light of the moniters to blind him. Nightwing's escrima crackled into his exposed back, and he was down.

Something clattered out of the Joker's hands along with the gun. Signal had a closer look at it while Nightwing cuffed Joker and Robin shut down all the rides.

"Joker had a deadman trigger!" He practically shrieked into the comms "Get everyone out of there now!" Looking closer at the moniters, it was easy to see the bombs at the bottom of every other support. Thankfully, with Robin having turned off the rides, the safety bar had let go, and the other bats had gotten all the civillians off the ride. Unfortunately, they were still in the blast zone.

Red Robin turned to say something to the civillians. Then this white haired kid practically threw Red Hood into Orphan, who was checking someone for injuries. With everyone behind him, the kid threw out his hands, as a sheet of ice grew from them. The ice seemed to thin to stop anything, but it covered everyone quickly. Once a dome had formed the ice began to thicken.

Then the bombs detonated.

~~~~~~

first / prev / next

It was under the word limit!

So, how many of you got the cameo last chapter? :)

As always, this was inspired by @freedomanddisorder's art and the following prompt chain. Please check out both, they are So cool,

[lulublack90]

Prompt 12 - Jealous

@jegulus-microfic November 12, Word count 746

Previous part First part

James jumped out of his car before any of the others could even unbuckle their seatbelts and opened Regulus’s door for him. Regulus looked up at him a bit bewildered, but took his hand anyway and let James guide him out of the car. 

“How come you never do that for me?” Remus pouted as he walked around the car to where Sirius stood waiting.

“Because of what I let you do to me this morning,” Sirius quipped, raising his brow, daring Remus to keep going as he would definitely describe every moment in minute detail. He’d done it before and would feel no shame in recounting their exploits in front of his brother. Remus smartly kept his mouth shut, and they headed into the gallery silently. 

James was surprised how many people were milling around the exhibits and just how large the art show actually was. There were so many artists showcasing their work. 

“Where’s yours?” He asked Regulus as they followed the crowd to the first display. 

“Back right,” Regulus told him, pointing in the right direction. James started to walk that way, but Regulus tugged his hand to stop him. “No, we have to look at everybody’s. We can’t just go straight to mine,” Regulus muttered quickly. 

“Why not?” James questioned. “I want to see yours,” Regulus’s cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. 

“I need a few minutes to prepare myself for going over there,” Regulus admitted, clearly nervous about how James would react.

“Let’s go look at some art then,” James said, kissing the back of Regulus’s hand and following after Sirius and Remus. “Thank you for telling me what you needed, love. You can always do that, and I’ll respect it every time,” He didn’t need to look down to know how deep the red was that coloured Regulus’s cheeks now, he could quite happily picture it in his head.

They caught up with Sirius and Remus, the former having a heated discussion with Remus in front of the artist about his piece. 

“I just don’t get it,” Sirius was saying. “I mean, it’s just a tennis ball,” Remus sighed. 

“It’s modern art; the tennis ball represents the way that commercialism has changed the way sports are viewed,”

“It represents a game of fetch,” Sirius retorted, much to the artist's ire. Remus hurriedly moved Sirius along to a painting of a park. “See, Remus, there’s a dog playing fetch with a tennis ball,” He said loudly as they took in the work. 

“I changed my mind,” Regulus said quietly into James’s ear. “I can not follow him around here, let's just go see my stuff,” James beamed down at him. 

“Lead the way, love,” 

Regulus led them all the way to the back of the hall and stopped in front of ‘Burk with a Nana’. “Wait!” James exclaimed. “They let you display it with that name?!” Regulus shrugged. 

“Art,” He said simply, as a means of explanation. “As long as it isn’t too sweary, they don’t mind.” 

James moved with Regulus, looking at each piece. Regulus seemed to lean towards painting, but there were charcoal sketches, clay sculptures and a cat made from intricately twisted gold-coloured wire. James was in awe of Regulus and was about to say so when he spotted him chatting with a tall, dirty-blonde-haired man. He felt suddenly quite jealous, an emotion he wasn’t used to feeling at the easy way they were conversing and the smile on Regulus’s face. He strode over there, putting a possessive arm around Regulus and waited to be introduced. 

“James, this is Evan. Our parents know each other. Evan, this is James, my, er, my…”

“Boyfriend,” James provided helpfully. To be fair to Regulus, they hadn’t discussed labels, but, by the pleased look on Regulus’s face, he quite liked this one. Evan’s eyebrows shot up his face in surprise. 

“Oh, wow,” He said. “Erm, wow, Regulus, that’s so good,” His face softened. “I’m so happy for you. I’m here with my boyfriend, actually. I think you know him. Oh, look, here he is now. Darling, look who it is,” A slim-built man in an expensive-looking suit strode over to their little group, his dark brown hair slicked back expertly, showing off the sparking diamond earring, glinting off the light as he neared them. James felt Regulus still at his side. 

“Barty,” Regulus breathed out when the man stopped before them, looking shocked at who Evan was talking to. 

“Reggie?” 

Next part

[calaisreno]

Sixth Sense

885 Words / Prompt: Intuition

Molly notices. 

She’s not really a friend of John’s. They're friendly, but she never has much to say to him. He’s kind to her, and probably aware of how she felt about Sherlock. 

As one of the few who knows Sherlock is alive, she has a terrible advantage over John Watson. Not the one she used to wish for. 

They met in her lab, when Mike Stamford came looking for Sherlock, to introduce him to John. Well, nobody introduced her. Sherlock was fixated on her lipstick for some reason. She remembers John’s eyes on her, then turning to focus on Sherlock. That was the day she finally figured out that Sherlock wasn’t interested in her. In time, her crushing disappointment was lessened by the realisation that he was gay. It wouldn’t have mattered what shade of lipstick she wore or however many coffees she brought him; he would never look at her the way he looked at John.

At first she thought John was straight. After her blunder with Jim from IT (who turned out to be not only gay, but also a criminal) she consulted her friend Jasper, another gay man. “How can you tell?”

Asking this, she wasn’t thinking about Sherlock, or even Jim. What she was wondering about was John, who sometimes looked at Sherlock as if he’d hung the moon, but still dated ridiculous women. 

Of course men have different taste in women, just as women prefer certain types of men. She was attracted to men like Sherlock— tall, pale, Byronic hair, blindingly intelligent. Men who entered rooms with a swirl, who spoke with voices that made her shiver. They were hard to find, and to expect such a man also to be kind, romantic, and not gay was apparently too much. 

John dated women who were a bit out of reach. Taller women, confident women, the kind who didn’t need the right lipstick to be noticed. The kind who didn’t own three cats and spend the holidays with their ageing mother. These unobtainable women never lasted more than two dates. And he never seemed to mind.

John is not Molly’s type. She appreciates his abilities as a doctor. He has the right manner with Sherlock, a bit snarky, but not mean. He’s not tall, not gracefully slender. He has a temper. He’s blond and a bit sweary, good-looking in an average way, an ordinary bloke who goes out for pints with people like Greg Lestrade and Mike Stamford. 

She’d barely noticed him that day in the lab. He’s a man who doesn’t stand out, who completely disappears in the shadow of a man like Sherlock.

John and she are that awkward thing: friends of friends. He would never introduce her as, my friend, Molly. It would be Sherlock’s friend, Molly. If he asked a favour of her, she would do it because Sherlock would appreciate it, not because she feels any obligation to John.

She doesn’t hate him, or wish anything bad on him. She might have felt jealous for a few days, simply because Sherlock never forgets John the way he forgets about her the minute she’s out of his sight. 

She noticed him watching John, usually when he wasn’t looking. He looked sad. And she thought, I know what that feels like.

The memory of that look weighs on her, weeks after Sherlock’s funeral. A hard day, that was, sitting in a pew trying to fake sadness as she watched others grieve.

As she watched John grieve. 

What does it mean that John Watson looks like he’s lost everything? She sees him at the hospital sometimes, his hooded gaze avoiding the eyes of others, his psychosomatic limp making him wince with pain. 

She can’t say what it is that tells her. Maybe she’s just practiced for so long on other men that she’s developed a sixth sense about it. 

John loved Sherlock— not just as a friend. And he’s probably just now realising that. She supposes that quite a few men dismiss those feelings of attraction. Jasper says, all men are gay, potentially. It’s just easier to stay in the closet.

There are various reasons for that, and she doesn’t want to speculate what John’s are, but she observes his grief, and knows regret is a large part of that. 

Sherlock will be back, someday. He wasn’t very clear about when. Six months, maybe a year. But she thinks he’s being optimistic; he wants to come home to John, not leave him to grieve for years. 

And by the time he does make it back, John will have found another woman. Blonde and pretty. Nothing like the dark beauties he used to date. But still, clever like Sherlock, a bit imperious and demanding. He will look at her the way Sherlock always looked at him, when he didn’t notice. 

She could tell him. There’s only her promise to stop her from doing that. Could John keep the secret? Sherlock told her not knowing will keep him alive, that knowing would put him in danger.

She’s not in danger. Nobody thinks she mattered that much to Sherlock. Her feigned grief is taken as real, but everybody knows she’ll get over it. Just a crush.

As for John Watson, this might just kill him. 

That’s a problem she could solve. 

[sir-libearian]

Ian Lefebvre and Izzy Hands parallels

Ian Lefebvre is a single Episode character played by Con O'neill in the show, "Pie in the Sky" 1995. Like ofmd, this show is theoretically a light-hearted comedy, but Con's character doesn't really experience it as such, and I'm forever losing my mind about it. But since Ian is a pretty much unknown character there’s no one to scream with.

In Brief, Ian is a British police officer who was shot, paralyzing both his legs. He was kept on the force mainly as a “diversity” hire/ for the look of the thing, while being unwanted and resented. He has a lot of anger about the situation and the ableism he faced, but is treated by the narrative as being in the “wrong” for that anger. 

So, Izzy & Ian parallels that make me emotional:

Internalized and externalized ableism

Fears (correctly, in Ian’s case) that their jobs just kept them on out of pity/guilt. “But I can hardly show him the door. He hangs around here like an uninvited guest at a wedding.” 

Alcoholism / bad coping / self medicating

Told by the narrative that they need to move on/ forgive what was done to them, that it’s their anger hurting them, etc.

Queer subtext. “Statistically speaking we should have at least one homosexual, though we don’t know who he is.” (meaningful look up and down) “Yet.” 

Angry sweary bastard (affectionate) 

Chronic pain

People trying to push his chair around, open doors for him, etc. Portrayed as wrong or irrational for declining and being angry when it keeps happening. 

brusk/ rude at first meeting. 

“I don’t think there’s any great mystery about Lefebvre seeming tense sir.” The man who shot him getting out of prison this week. 

Nightmares reliving being shot, trauma. 

Other characters treat being asked to work with him as an unpleasant inconvenience. 

Terrible failure at flirting

Suicidal Ideation. “If you keep on drinking and taking painkillers at the same time you will, eventually, kill yourself.” “Good.” 

“I didn’t choose this fate, it chose me. Anyway it’s not so much the length of it, it’s the depth. It’s not so much how long I live, but what I feel when I’m alive. (the pain.) Maybe this is true of us all, but circumstances rather shoved it in my face.” 

“He’s got to let people in. If you do anything for him he immediately throws it right back in your face.” 

“If he’d just let it go.”

“Is that your devil?” “He took away my legs.” … “You’ve got to forget about him.” “Forget?” “In as much as you can, yes. Put him out of your mind.” 

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

Future Inlaws?

Next in the Severe Miscalculation storyline!

Previous Chapter Here:

Next Chapter Here: coming hopefully soon.

Edit! This Here!

For the madness that started it all click here!

Summary: We see some more of Khopesh's...family for lack of a better term. Another short interlude.

Warning: Swears! Other than that not many Karlsor makes a groaning statement about shoving an icepick in his brain. I guess that counts.

Tags: @kit-williams (Who let me use Anrir so Thank You!) @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan (Who let me use their sweary lad Karlsor, Thank you!)

@bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @passionofthesith @sleepyfan-blog @barn-anon

Scrtch scrtch scrtch scratch. The gentle sounds of a stylis on paper filled the dimly lit chamber with one sole inhabitant.

An ancient a terrifying being, with both wit and knowledge that spanned centuries, millenia even.

The Terran born Nightlord known as Anrir reviewed and continued to bonder over his notations. Some where simple paperwork relating to his position as Apothercary, others were more...personal pursuits.

The Nature of Warp Bonds and Their Affects

The top of the page read. Sprawling throughout the documents were testimonies, graphs, data and hypothesese about the strange phenomenon known as bonding.

Even before Anrir had achieved his own bond he'd been endlessly Fascinated with the concept. In a manner he saw it as the main driving force between All interactions that occurred in this bizarre version of Terra's timeline they'd been sent to.

Without bonds, the more...vicious of their brother cousins would have likely converted at least half the native population into bloody pulp for the Skull Throne.

With them, as well as the lack of resources making sustained conflict untenable, the foundation for the greater alliance was made.

And their Appearance. Anrir could not see it himself, but the Librarians and Psychers he had collaborated with told him they often took the appearance of plants and flora. The exact type varied heavily depending on the relationship in question.

Anrir hypothesized the continuity might be due to their minds visualizing the unseeable. A bizarre form of paradolia that gave form to the formless. He continued to review his latest additions to his notes-

CrrrAsh! "Mother fucker I Swea..."

Thud! "...have to Run faster than tha..."

Until a pair of Very Recognizable voices faded in and out of the background as they ran, interrupted his writing.

Anrir sighed, placing his stylus down....next to a cracked picture frame from the Last Time this happened.

The stomping footsteps became louder again. He turned, briefly calculating the distance in his mind.

Thump thump thump thump Thump!

Anrir casually flexed the unmarred digits of his right hand before-

"If I didn't know any better I'd day you're gettin slower Karlsi-EeK!"

Snatch! One Charmingly Taxing Nightlord scout scruffed in his hold. While more frantic (or perhaps furious) footsteps approached.

Thump,thump,thump,thump,thump,thump,thump!

"Mother fucker I'm gonna kill you! I'm gonna fucking kill- Fuck..."

Anrir turned his eyes to his Claw's librarian, Karlsor, who'd stopped a few paces away.

"N-now Anrir, we didn't fuckin break anyth-Hurk!"

Two, two little Charmingly-Taxing-Nightlords scruffed.

"What...have I told you two?" Anrir asked, his voice firm yet controlled. "About Running near my Research?"

"Dont fuckin do it?" "Don't?" They said in unison.

"And...What, were you just doing?" He posed further.

"That," "Yeah, but he fuckin Started it!"

"You left the glasses unattended! You're lucky Ghosk didn't decide to snatch em!"

"They're My Sun goggles and How Fuckin Dare You!"

As the two younger Nightlords started bickering back and forth Anrir took a deep steadying breath and gently, but firmly... Knocked their skulls together.

Clack!

"Owwww!" "Fuckin hell that stings!"

"Now..." Anrir began. "Are we ready to discuss things properly?"

"Yes..." "Fine! fuck..."

"Khopesh...return Karlsor's glasses." Anrir commanded.

"Fine." Khopesh grumbled, more at his fun ending than Actually having to give the shades back.

"Hrmph!" Karlsor snatched them back with a growl, before placing them back on his face.

"And What do we say, when we have done something Wrong?"

"...I am sorry for taking your sun glasses." Khopesh aquiesed reluctantly.

"Hmph! Damn right you're sorry!"

"Karlsor..."

"And I accept your apology." Karlsor added quickly.

"Good." Anrir released the youngsters from their scruffing.

Khopesh rubbed the back of his neck. "You gotta Know you don't even Need them in this part of the base, riiiiight Karlsy?" Khopesh teased, gesturing to the Very dim surroundings which were custom suited to the Nightlords dark adapted eyes.

"Don't fuckin call me that ya whelp! And so fuckin what! They're My Shades and I'll wear them where I damn well please!" Karlsor snarled, before turning to stomp away.

"You're going to run into things again if you do that." Khopesh pointed out.

"The fuck I-WoAhAAH!" CRASH! The impact of the armored Nightlord hitting the wall rattled the room. On the worktable the picture frame once again fell over.

Unluckily as Khopesh predicted, Karlsor indeed did run into something. Or rather tripped. Whether that was do to wearing shades in a dark room or him being too mad to notice his surroundings was up for debate.

The grouchy librarian righted himself, before turning back to Khopesh with a seething look. "Not - one - word."

Khopesh smiled. "Okay. I'll just laugh then! BWAHAHAAHAHAHAHAA!"

"You're a FUCKIN DEAD FUCK I SWEAR!"

"ENOUGH!"

Oh shit. Both the younger Nightlords flinched as they remembered exactly Who they were squabbling near.

"Sorry Anrir." "Sorry." They replied hurriedly quieting their tones. The older Nightlord had his back turned, simply righting the framed photo from where it had fallen.

Thankfully, not Off the desk this time. Anrir took a moment to examine it, as he often did throughout the day.

No New cracks, thankfully. But the large one down the middle...no that truly wouldn't do. He did not Enjoy how it stretched between him and his Kitty.

He'd find a new sheet of plastic or glass. He'd prefer to keep the frame. Cutesy and childish as a lesser man would have considered it with its numeral stickers and pom poms and finger paint, courtesy of his darling participating in one of her daycare charges' crafting activities.

Anrir placed the frame back down with careful reverence, before turning back to his Sons.

"Let us but the matter Behind us, shall we?" He questioned. Though there was no room for debate in his tone. "Onto more Important things. Khopesh, you mentioned an announcement over your vox?"

The mood shifted with the change of subject almost immediately. The long haired Nightlord began bouncing in place, practically vibrating.

"Yes yes yes! I have someone Very special to introduce to all of you And! A new Hunt for us to plan!"

Well now That did intrigue Anrir. Khopesh could be very eager to go on Hunts (some would even say too eager). But far be it from Anrir to stifle something that made his son truly happy And generally made the world a safer place.

"You mention these two things at once...are they related?" Anrir questioned.

"If they are it's not much of a hunt if you Bring the fucker to us, dumbass." Karlsor snubbed a bit. Still a bit grouchy about the glasses...and grouchy in general.

"NO!" Khopesh snarled, barring his full teeth to his battle brother.

Karlsor's frustration was replaced with shock. This display wasn't the most frightening he'd seen, but he was stunned to see it come out of Khopesh, at Him.

Given the stunned silence Khopesh seemed to realize he over reacted. "I mean, No no no no No...well Yes technically." Khopesh corrected quickly. "They are not the one to be hunted! They are the one who was Harmed by the one we are going to be hunting. And they'll be here soon! I Just Know you'll Love Them!" Khopesh went from frantic correction to...cooing like a lovesick Lamenter??

"I see..." Anrir paused. "And...may I assume that this person is...Special to you?"

"Very much so! They are my sweet Lullaby! And we'll be sharing our first meal together tonight!" Khopesh said excitedly, quickly pulling up his vox messages and other saved photos. "I want them to meet all of you and your bonded's eventually! I think they'd fit in very well here. See?"

Khopesh showed off a few picts. One was of his Lullaby riding in horse competition. Another was them helping a young child learn to ride a horse. The picts and videos were a selection Khopesh had found from their mother's business' noosphere media.

Originally he'd obtained them as part of his investigation into Lullaby as a person, when he'd first met them. Now he simply kept his favorites, and to have something to show his Claw for reference.

"Rabbit and them both compete in sports, And they have experience in childcare and teaching from their family business like Kitty!" Khopesh explained. "And they're so sweet I'm sure Claude will find them very calming, once he gets past his usual shyness and then-"

Anrir's focus trailed off, but not for lack of interest! One of his sons had found a partner, And yes he Knew it was a partner; the smell he'd walked on base with, the 'glowing' and 'bouncing' energy he seemed filled with, and the presence of the bruising marks known as 'hickies' were enough to tell him that much.

He apparently Really liked and was looking forward to spending time with them. And Anrir would support Khopesh in this endeavor whole heartedly, bond involved or not. Anrir was many things but he was Not an Absent Parent.

No...it was because something about those photos-

Shwoop!

Khopesh's vox pings and a notification pops up covering the screen.

Lullaby: Hey I've arrived...I think? But I'm not sure where to go. Also I'm not sure they'll just let me in?

"Oh whoops! One moment." Khopesh shoots a vox message back.

Khopesh Thing That goes Prank in the Night: You should be able to enter the main lobby as it is open to the public. Wait for me there please! I want to introduce you to my brothers! I'm so excited for you to meet them.

Lullaby: Oh okay...how many am I meeting?

Khopesh: Just the ones in my claw that are here now. Don't worry they're gonna Love You! ;3

Lullaby: Including the one you made angry enough to chase you?? You suuuuure he'll like me? 🤔🤭

Khopesh smiled as he typed his next reply.

Khopesh: I'm Certain of it. He'll probably like how mouthy and sassy you are!

He stopped but then added...

But he can't have you of course! You're mine.

Lullaby: pfft! You've pissed him off that much huh? Well either way I'm making my way into the main lobby. The building is so Biiiiiig. I'm not used to this kinda space.

A photo came in. Showing Lullaby standing next to one of the Astarte sized chairs near the main entrance. It did indeed dwarf them as an average sized human.

"And saved!" Khopesh trilled, doing exactly that with the new photo.

Khopesh: Excellent! I will see you soon!

Anrir and Karlsor watched on with fascination. Well Karlsor was more still stunned to see this range of behavior from his brother.

Anrir, having his own special someone, was more understanding. But Still something itched at his brain.

"I must go greet them now. I will be back soon!" Khopesh stated, turning quickly to leave.

To his credit he did start by walking normally...until his speed picked up and he Launched himself into scrambling running climb throughout the unique architecture of the Nightlord base area.

Again, specially designed for suit their preference for skulking and climbing.

Karlsor stood their bewildered for a moment, before turning to Anrir. "What the Fuck was that about?"

Anrir simply chuckled. "Ah...young love..." He shook his head fondly before returning to his notes. Best sort and put them away for now, after all he'd be greeting a new face soon, best to look Presentable and make a good first impression.

He said much the same to Karlsor. "I'm assuming he'll be bringing his 'Sweet Lullaby' to meet us soon. Best get ready for that."

Karlsor groaned. Baselines were...well they were Frustrating or deal with! They either Weren't scared or were too scared. Sometimes they'd scream way too loud! And worse sometimes they'd giggle and call him...Bleh. Cute.

And Khopesh had apparently found 'someone special'. "If it turns out he's fuckin found someone Just Like Him I'm gonna stab myself with an Ice Pick!"

"I doubt Khopesh could find someone Exactly like himself dear Karlsor." Anrir assured, his desk now clean. He turned back to the Librarian.

"Though...I Must admit I am curious about his... Lullaby." Anrir muttered to himself.

Why couldn't he shake the feeling he was missing something?

"What got you Fuckin stewing suddenly?" Karlsor asked, noting Anrir's change in demeanor.

...

"...Those photos...did you recognize the Baseline in them?"

"...no?? Did you?"

Anrir turned back to Karlsor, his expression was serious. "I'm Certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that I've Never," he emphasized. "Met them before in my Life."

"So why Do I recognize them?"

Next chapter will be Here: (hopefully soon pray for my sanity)

[swearyshera]

Thank you!

This may end up being a long, rambly post because I'm a little emotional. But bear with me.

I am so incredibly thankful for all the love you've sent this week, and it humbles me to realise how much this silly little parody blog meant to people. Thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, commenting, asking, going absolutely unhinged in the tags... I read them all, and they've spurred me to keep going through 32 months, over 5000 posts, 40GB of screenshots and the wildest, most brilliant time of my life.

I'd love to thank people individually, but there's so many of you that I would inevitably miss someone out and that seems unfair! But I will say a special thank you to the She-Ra Uncut team, who I'm proud to consider some of the greatest friends I've made through this fandom, and whether we make many wonderful things, or never make anything again, I hope we can consider each other friends for life.

(Sob story time, feel free to skip!) In 2015, I had a huge breakdown. I was off work for 8 months, in hospital for a week, had therapy twice a week for a year... It was fucking awful. And though I got better, I never really felt like I had a reason to, and that I was just treading water until the darkness came back with vengeance. Then, as She-Ra ended, I made some silly posts that ended up as Etheria Nine-Nine, which led me onto what would become Sweary She-Ra. I had no idea how much this would change my life.

The response to this blog led me to write a script for a She-Ra Uncut trailer, and I loved it. I wrote more and developed a love for the craft, that I wanted to continue. It became a joy, and gave me a dream for the first time I could remember. So I kept writing, I kept learning and improving. In September 2022, I was sat in the Lowry theatre in Salford surrounded by the laughter of an audience watching a play that I wrote. That was the most incredible feeling of my life.

And I wouldn't have had that without thinking "Catra should be allowed to say fuck".

So while, it may be over (and it was pointed out to me that Sweary She-Ra ran for longer than the actual show did!), it's hopefully not the end. I'm very keen to make an audio sequel if I can, maybe several, and I'm not going to disappear into the ether. And hey, I don't know what the future will bring.

But there is a future.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you, everyone.

Alice.

(PS - Hi Crew-Ra, if you're reading this as I maybe suspect one or two of you may be. I am sorry but also not sorry, but also hire me when the strikes are over 😁. Thank you for making She-Ra, I love you!)

[jellybeanium124]

stede is silly so I think you can put flandersisms into his speech quite easily, the trick is he shouldn't be swearing less than ed. I've read fic before where ed and izzy are swearing such a ridiculous amount it's stupid and stede isn't swearing at all. nobody on this show is particularly sweary more or less than others. sure, izzy says "twat" more than everyone else, but like your fucks and shits are not concentrated to any one character. and like we all know there's underlying reasons to why this has happened.

[half-an-hour-hence]

Some random headcanons for the ghosts if they were alive today (part 2)

THOMAS

Is a self-published, fairly unsuccessful author, so he also works in a supermarket. Never ask him how he is when he’s on the checkout. He will go on for several minutes and will have a breakdown if you try to leave before he’s finished talking.

Thomas very proudly runs a Lord Byron hate account on Twitter, which has two followers (one is Pat because he felt sorry for him, and the other is his own personal account).

He is addicted to collecting vinyls. He spends the majority of the money he earns on records at both independent stores and HMV. It gets so bad sometimes that his younger sister has to lend him money to pay his bills.

Despite him having (almost) every dating app ever made on his phone, he’s remained painfully single for the vast majority of his life. However, he met a woman called Isabelle about a week ago and he’s convinced that she’s the one (they’ve spoken once)

JULIAN

He’s still an MP, and he DID have a heart attack, however the paramedics were able to resuscitate him. Now he’s slightly more bearable, and has been spending a lot more time with his wife and child. He still has the occasional fling and he isn’t exactly a saint in parliament, but Julian’ll tell you that improvement is a slow process.

He and Robin have a weekly chess competition on Sundays, during which they play as many games as possible before the football starts at 4:30pm (Julian loses every week).

He’s permanently banned from both Disneyland AND his local Waitrose (don’t ask)

Julian will prank anyone he associates with. He’ll turn up at the museum the Captain works at just to touch the things behind the ‘don’t touch’ signs. He changes the directions on Pat’s satnav when he’s taking the scouts out of town. He’ll write a sweary speech about the Opposition on Mary’s drawing (she’ll sell it anyway). He swears he’ll stop but he never will.

FANNY

Although she doesn’t need to work because she inherited a LOT of money from her parents, she works at the same university as Robin as a professor of mathematics. Her lectures are fairly boring and most students aren’t overly fond of her, however she’s very proud of herself for doing something she actually enjoys and proving her father wrong.

She likes to go on walks in the country with the Captain and her dog, Dante. James and Fanny are the most unlikely of friends, but they both find it easy to be their authentic selves around each other.

Fanny owns a kindle, on which she reads smutty novels without any sort of plot whatsoever. She enjoys reading them before bed, while snacking on a cheeky chocolate bar.

One of her hobbies is doing the family tree. After she discovered she had a distant relative called Alison, she hesitantly got in contact with her. Now she comes over frequently with her husband Mike. They have tea and make small talk. Although Fanny finds it hard to understand Alison’s generation, she is slowly warming up to her and is beginning to think of her as family.

[omgshiftercat]

BG3 Blogging: Karlach on the Beach

I had to replay a lot of this campaign twice: once after having realized I'd missed the tiefling party (and all the important character interaction therein), and later because of the huge Patch 7 update making old mods unusable.

But hey, more replay means more details to observe.

Stuff I noticed upon deciding not to skip the opening cinematic: the very first thing we see is an engraving of a huge brain, with an illithid standing in front of it in an authoritative pose, and a lot of humanoids bowing before it. I don't think this mural is actually on the nautiloid ship, though: you can find it in the illithid colony under Moonrise Towers.

One of the rune slates you can pick up on the nautiloid ship mentions an individual not connected to the overmind, and advises caution.

Also, one of the victims on board the ship is wearing what we later find out to be an amulet of the Absolute.

I'm not sure how randomized the book drops are, but while going through the "starter dungeon" near the beach this time I got, like, six copies each of The Curse of the Vampyr, The Unclaimed (about a Sharran who sacrificed her entire mind to her goddess and got nothing for it), and that one with short interviews about Bhaalspawn (a hint about the Dark Urge, and also telling a bit of the story of BG2).

I get it, Withers, you're dropping hints about some of the companions.

Even before I got the mod to show Origin-specific dialogue, you can often tell which options are Karlach's because of how sweary they are. Which... relatable.

As I mentioned, I did a lot of rambling on Discord about this game. I'll be indicating my friends' input with animal emoji.

Me: The Infernal script on Karlach's horn reads: "My champion, the Demonsbane. My blood is her strength."

🐇: The other horn says, "Property of Zariel. If found, please return to #3 Zariel Way, Avernus, Hell." Me: Thankfully, that's the horn that got broken off.

Apparently the default subclass for Karlach is Wildheart, but that doesn't make much sense to me. "your powers come from your strong bond with nature"? She's a city girl who became the Fury of Avernus. Where's the nature? Previously I went the Wild Magic route, but didn't find it all that useful. (Protective Lights? Great! Vines that entangle everyone but her? Less great.) This time I went with Berserker, so she can knock people down by hurling random items at them.

This means I'm mostly relying on Wyll to hear the animal dialogue, but 🤷‍♀️. Me: ...Ok, now I want someone to do a video of Karlach yelling "SPOOOOOOOOON!" like the Tick before she yeets a spoon at someone. 🐍: Which spoon? Is it the eyeball spoon? Me: BG3 does not have eyeball spoons! It has eyeball knitting needles!

[charliespringverse]

i've touched on this before but like . i really do think rowan's feelings get accidentally overlooked by readers that ,,, Aren't a bit obsessed and rereading for the nth time

and it's understandable because the version we primarily get of rowan is fereshteh's warped fanon & jimmy's longtime best friend mental illness riddled descriptions . and Because jimmy is unwell he almost idolises rowan in a way that holds him up as a pillar of stability and permanence — which is what jimmy needs and it's not a wholly negative thing, but he also inadvertently fails to accept any evidence to the contrary

whereas with lister we Learn a lot because jimmy is learning a lot — through deeper-than-usual conversations or blatant cries for help or very revealing behaviours — we don't get to discover anything new about rowan, and so when he's kinda mean or angry or distrusting it's easy to misinterpret that as him being deliberately and needlessly nasty

but if you stop looking at him through jimmy's lens, that boy has had an absolute bastard of a week . the jowan photo leak affects him as much as jimmy (arguably more so, because all the while he's dating bliss, jowan is an Active Lie rather than just an untruth), he's dealing with the same contract stress, his secret relationship has been exposed to the world, his girlfriend is ignoring him at a really difficult time, he's watching his two closest friends fall apart, he's learning that he really doesn't know one of them very well at all, his best friend is missing, the other is definitely an alcoholic making no moves to resolve that, his girlfriend has dumped him, he feels like they (and bliss) are being stalked by a member of a group he already feels like he isn't safe around, he feels like he's losing the two people closest to him

and all this time he's considering himself wholly and singlehandedly responsible for fixing all of this, feeling he has to hold himself and the world together . there's no real safe space for him to unload any of this because the three people he's closest to are either dumping him or going off the rails, and the only way he's ever known how to make himself comfortable is to have complete control over a situation, which just Is Not available to him here

it's not the fault of jimmy's narration that we never get to truly sit with the extent of what's going on with rowan, and in fact it really Really adds to the themes of being unable to truly know somebody and personal perception destroying objective truth

but GOD it breaks my heart to see people say they don't care for rowan, or don't like him, because he's snappy and sweary and short with people . because that's such a natural response to having that much shit piled on top of you in under a week AND losing your only coping mechanism (in this case, taking the weight of everything and moulding it into something tangible and possible to hold)

anyway. i am a rowan omondi stan first and a human being second and WOW rowan needs therapy and jimmy needs to stop idealising him

[kalcifers-blog]

Thinking about Generation Loss and thought about how cool it would have been if Jacksepticeye was in it? SO HERE HAVE GL!JSE

The idea is that while "Jack" is under Showfalls control- he's basically the version of himself that got his chanel extremely popular (think 2015-2018 era) with the green hair and "Loud Sweary Irishman" was his whole brand- how it looks like he has heterochromia until the mask is turned off and we actually see that his eye has been removed entirely to fit in a mind control esc device into his skull.

I also think that "Jack" has been at this for a very long time- and he's played many different roles (Similar to GL!Slime/Charlie) and those roles being each of The Egos- making him have so many different roles and names that he doesn't remember his actual name, he just knows that it isn't the one that he was given by Showfall.

I feel like he'd act mostly as an ally to Ranboo in a similar way to how Sneeg did- but was more interested into figuring out who they actually where before Showfall over actually escaping- probably being the first to ask everyone as to how much they actually remember outside of Showfall Media.

ANYWAY. Let me know if I should make more of other YouTubers in Generation Loss!!

[mariacallous]

Elon Musk’s toxicity among many Europeans is such that even owners of Tesla news websites have ditched Muskmobiles for other EV brands. Jon Gibbs of Birmingham, England, runs what he calls the “world’s biggest Tesla inventory site." Tesla-info, Gibbs says, stores the “largest database of new and used Tesla motors in the world.” He used to own one himself—but he now drives a BMW iX electric SUV.

Likewise, Tim Kraaijvanger of the Netherlands, founder of Tesla360.nl, a Dutch everything-Tesla site, recently sold his Model Y and bought a Polestar instead. Both entrepreneurs pin their car switch on Musk’s support for European far-right political parties, and his inauguration rally arm gestures.

“While Musk might get away with a [Nazi-like] salute in some parts of the world, European markets reject such behavior,” Kraaijvanger tells WIRED. “World War Two still casts a long shadow." He may be right. Tesla sales are in free fall in Europe right now. Last month, Norway—where EVs overtook internal combustion vehicles in total market share in 2024—recorded a biting 37.9 percent slump. At the same time, Tesla sales in France fell by a thumping 63.4 percent. And it gets even worse: In Spain, Tesla sales plummeted by 75.4 percent.

Kraaijvanger, founder of online marketing firm Stormachtig, started Tesla360.nl in 2020, then rolled out a German version three years later. He has owned several Tesla cars and, later this year, planned to upgrade to the refreshed $59,990 Model Y Juniper. Offloading his current Model Y has cost him dearly: “I received only about half of the [Tesla’s] original new price when selling it,” he revealed. “But I do not wish to be associated with [Musk’s] ideology.”

He has yet to ditch his URLs, but then running websites is mainly anonymous. On the other hand, driving a Tesla on public roads is becoming increasingly problematic in Europe. Social media is rife with images of Teslas vandalized with Swastikas and expletives. Dealerships are also being targeted. Vandals sprayed graffiti on a Tesla car showroom in The Hague in early February, defacing the building with “No to Nazis” and sweary anti-fascist slogans.

On a grander scale, the English campaign group Led by Donkeys recently teamed up with Germany’s Center for Political Beauty to beam an image of Elon Musk making the inauguration salute onto Tesla’s gigafactory in Berlin, with the word “Heil” projected next to the lit Tesla logo. “This is who Elon Musk really is,” stressed Led by Donkeys across their well-followed social media accounts. “Don’t buy a Tesla” urged the activists.

Startup crowdfunded group Everyone Hates Elon has been distributing anti-Tesla stickers in London with left-wing outlet Novara Media reporting that “hundreds” of Tesla owners have returned to their parked EVs to find them defaced with hard-to-remove roundels featuring a grinning Musk plastered with a Hitler-aping toothbrush mustache and the request not to “buy a Swastikar.”

Some Tesla owners are themselves defacing their cars, with the “I Bought This Before We Knew Elon Was Crazy” bumper sticker being a particular favorite. “I have seen massive uplift in sales across Europe,” Matthew Hiller of Hawaii-based Mad Puffer Stickers tells WIRED. “Leading the way are buyers from France, Norway, and the UK,” he adds. “I used to want a Tesla until Elon turned into a full-on fascist,” claims Hiller on his otherwise fish-themed store. He figures there’s a “lot of disgruntled Tesla owners out there” and claims to have sold thousands of sticker sets across the world.

“I went so far as to test drive a Tesla in 2023, but at that time, [Musk’s] purchase of Twitter was complete, and I saw what he was doing to the platform,” says Hiller. “Skewing the algorithm to favor alt-right voices, promoting disinformation, banning people he didn’t like. Using his influence to wade into politics really turned me off buying a Tesla—it’s a MAGA hat on wheels.”

Musk’s “salute” has boosted Hiller’s sales. “It has been a sustained 500 sales a day since the salute,” he says. “That moment broke through all the usual Elon noise. Even the [MAGA-lite folks] who only casually pay attention to what is happening in the government woke up at that moment and were like ‘Holy shit, what have we done?’”

Another of Hiller’s most popular stickers for Tesla owners states that the driver is now a member of the “Anti Elon Tesla Club.” She might not have yet bought such a sticker, but Tesla shareholder Karen Róbertsdóttir of Reykjavik, Iceland, should perhaps become at least an associate member. “The Tesla groups over here in Iceland used to never have the sort of ‘I can’t buy a Tesla because of Elon’ stuff you’d see in the States—but now it’s everywhere, and the people I talk to elsewhere in Europe are seeing the same thing,” she wrote over the weekend on Tesla’s YouTube channel.

“I’ve defended you guys so much over the years, and you make great products, but even I can’t stick up for you anymore,” she stated.

Róbertsdóttir, now a software developer for Icelandic air traffic control company Isavia, started her tech career as founder of Iowa-based Celadon Applications. This 2009 startup developed software for electric vehicles. A long-time Tesla stockholder, one of her resolutions was put to the vote at Tesla’s annual shareholder meeting in 2023, calling on Tesla’s board to release a succession plan for Musk and other “key persons” whose behavior could create a risk for the company and shareholders.

“When people look at this company,” she said at the meeting, “they see the company as a synonym for its CEO.” (The board recommended rejecting the resolution, and it was duly voted down.)

While some shareholders have already voted with their feet—in January, Dutch civil service pension fund ABP sold its €782 million stake in Tesla, for instance—most still seem unbothered by Musk’s trolling, or his apparent takeover of the US government's executive branch with the help of young coders. Musk’s “pedo guy” comments against a British cave rescue diver, successfully defended in a 2019 defamation trial, didn’t ruffle that many shareholder feathers, but it’s harder to ignore sales cull calls.

In late January, Poland’s sports and tourism minister Sławomir Nitras lobbied for a Tesla boycott. “There is no justification for any reasonable Pole to continue purchasing Teslas,” he said.

In Germany, where Musk has caused outrage by endorsing far-right political party Alternative for Germany (AfD), going so far as to appear as a surprise video guest at the party's national election campaign launch last month, several companies have cut ties with Tesla. Drugstore chain Rossmann, with 4,700 stores across Europe, has replaced Tesla in its electric fleet with other EV brands, citing the “incompatibility” of its corporate values and Musk’s ideology.

German energy company LichtBlick revealed an uncoupling from Tesla on a LinkedIn post. “We are pulling the plug on Tesla vehicles in our fleet,” said the announcement, with the firm’s real estate head, Kevin Lütje, clarifying that “Elon Musk’s support of Donald Trump and his recommendation to vote for a right-wing populist and right-wing extremist party … is in no way compatible with LichtBlick’s values.” He stated that “climate protection and electromobility are extremely important to us, but in the future we will be relying on providers other than Tesla.”

Such boycotts benefit Tesla’s rivals. “We have seen an increase in people writing to us and switching to Polestar in recent months,” Polestar’s German CEO Michael Lohscheller tells WIRED. Lohscheller called Musk’s endorsement of AfD “totally unacceptable.”

There are many reasons for Tesla’s waning fortunes in Europe—including stale model line-up (Geely’s Gothenburg-developed Zeekr 7X SUV has more bells and whistles than a Model Y) and expense (a Model 3 costs €39,990 in Europe, while many better EVs are biting into this price point)—but Musk’s steady descent from real-life Tony Stark to MAGA power broker seems to be a key reason for Tesla’s current precipitous fall from grace.

Tesla sales dropped 13 percent across the whole European Union in 2024, according to data from the industry body ACEA, and just like in Spain and France, in many key markets the fall is still steeper. According to the German Federal Motor Transport Authority, Tesla registered only 1,277 new cars in Germany in January, a year-on-year drop of 59.5 percent.

Tesla was contacted for this piece and did not respond, but there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel for Tesla sales in Europe. A recent survey by Dutch news outlet EenVandaag got responses from 432 Tesla drivers. Some “31 percent are either contemplating selling their car or have already done so,” the survey found. Forty percent of owners felt embarrassed to own a Tesla. By any measure, these are statistics that no car company wants to own.

[tiredpandaportfolio]

Hey-ho, go on and tell us about how much everyone in DMC swears and do include your characters!!

Oh bless you for asking me an easy one on a Monday evening lmao. I do have thoughts a-plenty.

---

Let's start with the least sweary of the bunch and work our way up.

Vergil is almost as obsessed with dignity and an honorable appearance as he is (or was) with power. Swearing is uncouth and very un-Sparda-like, in his opinion. The worst you'll get out of him is a highly threatning "You..." with a full gamut of implied swearing. Or something like "buffoon" or "cretin". He's entirely capable of digging through a thesaurus for obscure ways to insult people.

On the other hand, V will say "shit" when things truly are as dismal as they can get. Quietly, under his breath, but with pathos. Griffon does 90% of the swearing for him. And if we believe Griffon, Shadow does about 9% of the rest but he refuses to repeat what she says, claiming it's too vile. But it's Griffon, who buys it, right?

Now, Kyrie, sweet and lovely Kyrie is a master of the Precision F-Strike. She has the patience of the saints and she's raising three boys and a whole-ass adult child who swears like a sailor. So her moments of dropping F-Bombs are very rare, but always editorial. Kyrie however has the amazing ability to be insanely passive-aggressive when annoyed, all while being incredinbly pleasant... and capable of making "thank you" sound like "fuck you, you soulless bitch".

Roy, Tess' elderly, sweet familiar, has a patience threshold that reaches beyond the moon. He is the epitome of the unflappable, stiff-upper-lip Brit without being British. It takes a lot to motivate him to swearing, but get him there, and he swears quite heartily like a Scottish sailor... and not above employing long-dead languages. But do expect you to insult you on the sly or call you a "silly cabbage" which is somehow more insulting that being called, say, "fuckface", coming from a being as old as he is.

Contrary to his image, Dante swears surprisingly little. He needs to be made really, really mad to start dropping F-Bombs and again, his threshold is pretty high. Childish insults don't count, which is why he'll happily call some hapless demon "buckethead" and shit all over their skills in battle without swearing.

On the other end, Trish will swear only when inconvenienced, and mostly under her breath. She learned swearing from Dante and has become aware that a lot of Dante's swearing is incredibly childish and infantile and therefore cringe. Her association with Lady is definitely helping. She's more likely to laugh at someone than call their mother something unpleasant.

Lady swears when particularly frustrated, which is rather often. And much of the source of her frustration is Dante. Or demons. Or shenanigans that cost her money. Or hijinks that damage her equipment, which costs her money. The woman has many reasons to let it rip and she does. She's very fond of rude gestures.

Nero is the problem child, this kid will start swearing loudly and heartily at the slightest provocation and loves pissing people off by insulting their mothers. He's not very creative about it... yet... but he's getting there as he hangs out with people who know more swear words than he does. He's very good at stealth insults.

As angry and sweary as he is though, there is yet another level he can only aspire to achieve... and he pays attention.

The sweariest and most vehemently offensive of the bunch is Tess who makes up for her small stature and unassuming looks with a wellspring of vulgarity and cursing that is as deep as outer space. Piss her off enough and her speech becomes a constant, uninterrupted stream of vile swearing that can go on without repetition for 5 or 6 minutes in about 4 different languages. Nero is in awe of this woman and Dante winces when she suddenly goes off like a grenade. He is wholly convinced this is a matter of stature-- "She's tiny, so all her rage and spite and swearing gets super concentrated."