#m: i can create /fire/???? NICE. i know just who to thy this new power on first

[snowyfrostshadows]

Been feelin a lil down lately

Thankfully, indulging in silly AUs is always a great pick me up

[talesofsonicasura]

Thief's Ambition

Velvet Dilemma

Every thief needs the right tool for any sort of job. But what would happen if one of your resources isn't what they seem to be? Long post. Warning: Suicide Attempt, and mentions of abuse

They say reality and imagination are two sides of the same coin. Reality being ruled by laws and sciences to present what one calls 'normal', a limited perspective. Imagination however, is without restrictions if someone has the willpower to create or dream, limitless potential.

Information or to be specific, Digital Code' held both treats of reality and imagination. Rules to stabilize the unlimited potential of someone's creativity and what could be created is endless. Sometimes, one's design could break those boundaries. The results are determined by the creator. Whether it will lead to paradise or pure ruin. Only they can decide.

Le Blanc, a small but humble shop located in Yogenjaya, Japan. This cafe owned by Sojiro Sakura, is quite famous for their delicious curry, extraordinary coffee and friendly atmosphere. It is also the temporary home of a specific teenager. A young man whose choices can affect the world around him in large ripples. His name was Ren Amamiya.

The boy was around 15 years old, hair was a pitch black nest of curls, eyes a mysterious obsidian that shone brighter through the lens of his false glasses, a soft balance built with some growing muscle to his form, and stood about 5'7 in height. A pure black gakuran fitting snugly on the young man's body paired alongside black pants and nicely made boots as he carried his slightly large gray school bag over his shoulders.

His destination was Le Blanc, taking his time by walking down the sidewalk and glanced around to take in any important details. It didn't seem that anything would catch the boy's eyes since Yogenjaya was more of a rural area. That was until an abnormally tall structure crossed his line of sight.

Not too far from where he was, Ren could make what had to be a hotel. Around 5 stories in height and from how clean it seemed, the place was obviously new. Halfway down the large infrastructure was a soft magenta sign that read: Hotel Nexus. The name rings some bells in his head.

It was a new hotel that recently opened up before he came. Great service, fair prices and quite a selection of accommodations for anyone's price range. He heard some of the teachers and even students at his school raving about it.

Ren didn't really notice that he entered his destination until his nose was greeted to the bitter scent of coffee beans and spice of curry. His caretaker Sojiro Sakura, a rough looking older man with dark brown eyes, black hair in a man bun and beard, was in the middle of serving a few customers. Thus, the teen walked up to his room which was in actuality, a spacy attic.

Placing his bag on the bed, the raven was about to start on his homework when a voice spoke out. "Thy trickster." A soft, suave yet slightly distorted male's nearly made the boy jump if he didn't know who this voice belonged to. Not even the first few days in Tokyo did the teen come across the path of the supernatural.

"We need to have a discussion. Thee might have a problem." The voice explained much to Ren's utter confusion. If by instinct, the raven took off his glasses and held it out. Blue flames suddenly manifested on the frames, sparks spewing out to the attic floor in 5 different spots before the fire extinguished.

Each spark burned brighter as they grew in size but didn't spread across the wood surface like any normal fire. The smallest stood barely a foot in size while the largest being a shocking 15 ft all around. Suddenly, the fire sputtered out as five different creatures now sat before the young boy.

A large black horse that had two long teal horns, crimson eyes and white mane, a small brown haired pixie with butterfly wings wearing a blue one-piece and gloves, pink skinned imp with small wings and wore a belt with a large stinger positioned at an inappropriate place, and a jack-o-lantern headed creature wearing a dark blue robe, witch's hat, and white gloves holding a lantern.

The last being was not only large but vastly different from the others. Sitting slightly uncomfortable on the floor was a dapper gentleman-esque black and crimson demon.

Black leathery hide, pitch black mask for a face as fire highlighted the long spindly devil horns than just painting fiery eyes or the wicked smile, razor sharp black claws and angelic ebony wings that spawn from his lower back. The demon's clothing consisted of a black corset tuxedo held tight by red strings, white fancy cravat, a short crimson coat with long sleeves, collar and coattails, red armor mimicking dress pants covered the legs which ended with knife blade heels, and a tall black top hat stitched at the back with red strings.

Despite the five demons sitting before him, Ren wasn't afraid of their presence. After all, why would he be scared of his own Persona and one of the reasons he is still alive? From the information given by various sources, these beings were born from thoughts of man and assist those who awaken or earn their power.

His current Persona team consisted of Bicorn, Pixie, Incubus and Jack-o-Lantern. Ren couldn't forget his main Persona either, the one who answered his call and shared the same rebellion in his soul, Arsene. Seeing all five here meant there was something going on especially from the looks on their face.

Bicorn looked very irate, well, more than he usually was, Pixie was a mixture of concern and worry, Incubus had his arms crossed alongside a large scowl on his face and Jack-o-Lantern looked like he wanted to disappear. The only one who didn't seem upset was Ren's dapper devil, the flames of the mask were in a soft simmer, almost if he was sheepish. Things had to be wrong if the Legendary Phantom Thief didn't have his signature grin.

"Is everything ok? Arsene said you guys wanted to talk about something." The raven politely asked, it may not look like it but Ren did care for his Persona. Although, not all of them were on the same level as his rebel heart but… Out of the bunch, it was Incubus who spoke up.

"Here's the problem boss, none of us are getting fused!" And the teen's train of thought came to a stop like a broken record. "What?" The word just came out of his mouth as if he was on autopilot. Quite a reasonable reaction for when you considered Ren's current situation in full.

Stuck on probation in a foreign place, his future walking towards a foretold path of ruin, the twisted desires of his gym teacher manifesting as a cognitive place and these very creatures before him holding a key to his salvation. That also included fusing them to create a more powerful Persona.

"Normally we don't have any opinions when it comes to fusion. Previous Wild Cards before you had done the process thousands of times. However, this time there's two issues that we cannot accept! And no amount of bribery will change our opinion!" Bicorn huffed, scraping a hoof across the ground.

That actually convinced Ren even more to listen to their problem, especially when he considered the new information given. If there had been others like him, why wasn't he notified? And what was different about the process of Fusion if Persona used to not have an issue?

"Alright. Can you tell me these reasons for omitting fusion from the Velvet Room?" His inquiry seemed to relieve some of the tension for the group of Persona. The teen could only guess it must be rare for Wildcards to tend to their needs. Or it must have been quite a long time since a Persona User like him appeared.

"Sure dee-doo, bossman! First off is the Fusion Methods! Persona are fused in many different ways, some by dancing or even tarot cards. Executions aren't one of them. Despite some Persona being created from evil legends, the fusion tools were always humane and fair for all participants." Jack-o-Lantern spoke up, the fire in his lantern burning brighter with each word.

Ren easily agreed with that reason. His first time actually being able to use the Fusion was a very unsavory experience. At that time, he only had just Arsene and Pixie. To see Igor and his assistants unveil those large guillotines made him feel like he was back at that Palace thing.

Seeing shadows of people being tortured like slaves already made him a bit uncomfortable but the 'Fusion Tools' were enough to leave the room with a poker face just to hide a grimace. "Yeah, I can see your point. Don't know how a guillotine isn't even supposed to do that."

That also raised another question as he had a feeling what the second reason really was. Pixie only solidified that very thought. "Our second reason is the Velvet Room itself, to be precise, Igor himself. You see, out of many Personas, I am usually the one Wildcards tend to acquire first." A look of nostalgia sparked in her eyes.

"This means that I am often fused quite a lot so I've been around Igor. Despite looking a bit crooked, the man has an aura of a gentleman and has this mischievous but kind air around him. Something that makes the Velvet Room comfortable for both Persona and Wildcards but…" A nervous and saddened look was quick to mark the fairy's face.

"...that isn't the Igor we know. This one is cold and has this aura of cruelty hidden underneath. And it's not just him but both Velvet Room attendants feel off too. It's almost if both girls are like broken dolls, scraps of a toy remade into two different copies."

The room went silent for a bit as Ren processed all this information. Persona who's been summoned or recruited a lot, Veteran he'll call it, could feel when something is off with the Velvet Room. It would explain why Arsene didn't seem that bothered unlike the others, since he was new to the whole thing.

Now that the teen thought about it, Igor and his attendants seemed very quick to introduce the Fusion mechanic… too quick. If something was indeed wrong with the Velvet Room, then it would be best to limit his usage. Ren couldn't just stop using it altogether and none of them had issues with the Register/Summon option.

"Alright. I won't use the Velvet Room for fusion. If you guys think the place is off and Igor can't be trusted, then I'll trust your judgement. Problem is, how can I perform Fusions now?" The Persona he had now, excluding Arsene, can't really grow powerful enough to deal with any future Palaces.

Stronger Personas were needed if he was going to avoid this 'ruin'. His main Persona then spoke up. "How about you search for a mage? Thou passed one earlier today." Wait what? Ren looked at the Curse Type with a mixture of disbelief and surprise.

There's a mage, someone who practices actual magic, in bloody Tokyo. Pixie spoke upon her User's look of befuddlement. "Practicers of magic do exist, master Ren. They are rare and tend to stay hidden amongst the locals. You can easily guess why. Some even treat Fusing or Summoning Persona like an exam to know if one is ready for the next level of magic."

The raven haired teen let out an intrigue hum from the explanation. If he can find the mage Arsene sensed earlier then they should be able to help with his Fusion problem. "Where did you sense them anyway?"

Ren couldn't believe the stroke of luck he got. Apparently the person he was looking for happened to be in Yogenjaya, specifically the new Nexus Hotel. Once school was over for the day, he quickly made his way towards the place. It was honestly bigger in person than seeing it from Le Blanc.

Various trees with interwoven branches formed a path to the hotel similar to a green red carpet, two fountains paired with benches on each side of the fountain and the centerpiece was a peculiar statue. An 8 meter giant of scrap metal carefully melded together to form a lizardman wielding a large microphone stand like it was a guitar and on the plaque it stood on read: Welcome to Hotel Nexus.

There are even a few stalls set up for local vendors to rent and sell merchandise. 'This hotel feels like a homey place to stay in. No wonder a lot of people Shujin talk about it.' Ren thought while looking at the large statue with intrigue. He could see a lot of work was put into it from the V shape horns, beak like snout and even intricate design on the stand.

Even a non-artist can see all the work, effort and dedication put into it. "What do you mean it ain't for sale?!" A brutish shout immediately ripped the boy's attention. Obsidian eyes soon look at a scene forming to his side between a large portly man and someone around his age.

The girl had cyan hair with a silver frohawk at center, emerald green eyes bearing black v shaped marks underneath, and a thin elegantly curved body around 5'6 in height. Her clothing consisted of a black shirt, short red long sleeved jacket, dark blue cargo pants and white high tops.

What got Rens attention was the peculiar device hanging around her neck, it looked like one of those pocket pet toys but merged with a walkie talkie. Pure silver with red buttons and a black strap for string. She honestly looked very annoyed.

"It's like I said to your boss a million times before. Hotel Nexus isn't for sale! My family and I worked hard to make this place so no way in hell we're giving it up. I don't give a damn how high the food chain your boss is, the answer will be no!" Ren could practically feel the venom in her words from the fifteen distance.

Something that amused Arsene since the Curse Persona was laughing. 'It seems that fiery young lady is the mage that thou been looking for. Such strong rebellion radiating brilliantly alongside her magic.' The raven continued watching the scene unfold.

He had to agree with Arsene on the fiery term since the girl literally growled at the man before her. "Get outta here and tell your boss he can choke on his own balls!" The poor employee went running off in seconds with his tail between his legs. Adjusting his fake glasses, Ren decided to approach the cyanette once she took a few deep breaths.

Now that he was closer, the young man could see flecks of gold and silver in those emerald eyes as the girl saw him. "Hey there. Sorry if ya saw the commotion. I'm usually more professional but guys like that tend to grind my gears." She then put on a polite smile.

"My name is Hokuto...Shoutmon! One of the owners of Hotel Nexus. What can I do for you?" Ren couldn't lie, that was the oddest last name he heard in his life. Or the fact that her teeth were razor sharp just from the smile given. Knowing it was rude to stare, the raven haired teen spoke.

"My name is Ren and I happen to be new in the area. I was hoping you can answer a few questions for me." Best to have some honesty if he was going to even get the cyanette's trust. Hokuto merely kept a polite look on her face and stayed professional to even her posture.

"Sure, what questions do you have? Need any help finding a room or are you interested in renting a stand? Or is it more personal?" Childlike curiosity brimmed in the emerald eyes of the Nexus' heiress that made Arsene laugh in his human partner's head. 'Might as well answer her, dear Trickster. Can't keep a young lady waiting~'

Ignoring the obvious flirt, Ren decided to be a bit straight forward in his response. "Can you help me with a little school project of mine? I'm supposed to ask people a set of words and how they felt about each one for my psychology class." He even pulled up a pen and paper to make it more convincing.

If she was really a mage, then he had a feeling Hokuto would be more comfortable with masking a risky topic such as this. Plus one class did ask for a Do-Your-Own assignment for homework today. The Shoutmon woman tilted her head a bit, mild confusion crossed her face before shrugging. Didn't seem that bad to her so why not oblige the boy?

"Sure, I don't mind. It's honestly a bit refreshing but I get to choose a few words too. That way it'll be more like a game, and who knows, ya might get some extra credit." Ren nodded his head and had a smirk on his face from Hokuto's unexpected reply. He even had a good word to start with.

"Alright. My first word or to be precise, words is 'Velvet Room'." The cyanette hummed a bit hearing the word. An inquisitive look on her face as she mulled the two words over in her head a bit. It took a few more seconds before she gave an answer.

"Intrigue and wonderment comes to mind but oddly also caution. Something as fancy as 'Velvet Room' has to have something dark or sinister in the undertone. Kinda like the story of Hansel and Gretel with the witch's house being made of sweets." The teen and Persona understood the reason behind that, even if the 'caution' part sounded more instinctual.

Not everything that glitters gold meant was good. "Alright, my turn. The word I choose is Tamer." Hokuto said with a cheery tone. It was his turn to tilt his head at the suspicious pick. Being a Wildcard did fit with the word since Ren had to befriend or 'tame' multiple Persona than just one.

"Adventurous, enlightening and carefulness. Being a tamer means you are potentially risking your life at befriending a living creature that can do harm if you aren't careful. Achieving a bond is also a reward in itself from how much you learn and grow with the experience." The raven haired teen could feel the warmth of his Persona's happiness and admiration blanket his heart.

Hokuto also seemed really happy about his response too, almost if checking something off in her head. "That's one way to say it. Now it's your turn again." Ren already knew what he was going to ask for this round. "Okay. My next word is Persona with a capital P." The cyanette mulled over the peculiar word in her head.

Something about it felt odd, like a primal instinct of sorts but she couldn't really guess why. Placing a hand on her chin, the young woman gave the boy an answer. "Since it sounds like a living creature, I would say wonder and bewilderment. Unknown life tends to bring tons of questions alongside the possibilities of their uniqueness."

Ren hummed at the answer while writing it down on paper. He would admit that he didn't see the next word coming though. "Your next word is Digimon!" Confusion immediately covered the raven haired teen's face. Did he hear that right? Digimon? Was it short for something like 'Digital Monster'?

"Taking a random guess here but the only thing that comes to mind is curiosity. I've never heard of a term like Digimon before and it makes me wonder what the concept truly is. A game or maybe a brand series that's focus is around collectible creatures under the same name."

It was the only reasonable Ren could actually think of. He'd never heard of 'Digimon' before and would have done some research later on. The teen was ready to ask his final question when the sound of a ringtone went off. Hokuto had pulled out her phone, a look of mild horror crossing her face in seconds.

"Seriously?! I'm sorry but I have to cut this conversation short. Got to close off one of the guest bathrooms and call for a repairman!" She quickly turned on the heel of her feet before taking off into the hotel. All Ren could do was blink as his objective was now out of reach.

'An unfortunate setback. However, thou at least have the mademoiselle's location. We would just need to visit another time.' Arsene whispered in the raven's head, the young man let out a sigh. He'll have to make do with the Persona he had for now.

The next day… Ren was sitting in his seat like usual. Getting stared at by most of his classmates and teacher with the appeal of a convict. An irritating normal when you had your criminal record and reason for being transferred thrown out to the entire school as if it was a newspaper.

It also sucked that his teacher, Mr Uchimaru, was an asshole who likes to harass others when they answer one of his surprise questions wrong. Ryuji texting him in the middle of the class and Morgana talking in his bag either. Even if no one could understand the not-cat, they could still hear his meows.

His mind however went to a grinding halt upon the words of his classmates. "There's someone on the roof! Is she going to jump? Suzui Shiho?" Dread immediately filled his heart upon the name. Suzui Shiho was one of the upperclassmen who was being sexually harassed by his current target, the gym teacher Kamoshida.

He was out of his seat in seconds and ran straight for the hallway window for a better look. A better view was needed to see if it really was Shiho. Obsidian eyes widen in absolute horror upon the sight of the brown haired teenager standing at the ledge of the building.

'No… Dear god, please don't…!' The girl jumped off the roof, Ren's heart dropped to his stomach while his classmates screamed. Shiho was about to hit the ground when familiar light blue hair came into sight as someone caught her falling body in time. Ren immediately ran down the halls of the school, to get outside and see if his senpai was alright.

The teen caught sight of Hokuto Shoutmon holding the girl tight to her chest, Shiho was nuzzled into the hotel manager's neck in tears. "Shh. It's alright. Just let it all out. I don't know who hurt you but there are people in this world that still care about ya. Think about them, not ya tormentors."

Hokuto's strong upbeat voice was now a soft comforting whisper while she rubbed the suicidal girl's back gently. Emerald eyes looked into Ren's obsidian ones with mild surprise. It was probably the fact she didn't know he went to school here either.

"Shiho." The raven turned his head to see one of his classmates running towards the two girls. Ann Tamanaki, the platinum blonde girl with green eyes and her hair in two ponytails who was also Shiho's best friend by what he saw from their interactions. The hotel manager turned her head over to the blonde.

"I'm guessing you are a friend of hers? Do you know her parents' numbers? This poor girl needs all the support she can get right now and I need to call the suicide hotline. We were lucky enough that I was able to catch her in time." Hokuto let Ann hold Shiho but not before the pigtailed girl said a grateful teary 'Thank You'.

The cyanette then looked at Ren. "I don't know who broke that poor girl's will but I do know one thing. If that fucker shows their face, I'll do everything in my power to knock em off their pedestal. No one deserves this for another bastard's sick pleasure. They say eyes are the window to one's soul, her eyes are that of a victim on their last string."

Shiho's parents immediately came over along with an ambulance and a few cop cars to check on the frazzled brunette. Hokuto had left after they questioned her on how she even found Shiho. Apparently the hotel manager was heading towards one of the markets nearby, a coincidence that managed to save his classmate's life.

It also meant that Kamoshida needed to be dealt with before someone else breaks. There is the expulsion deadline too, since confronting the man in righteous anger was a dumb idea. Whatever the case, the perverted PE teacher needed his heart changed. And the only solution was the man's castle, nestled in the school's Metaverse.

The Metaverse was a physical plane created through the unconscious cognition of people, a place between reality and imagination. Palaces were an area created from the large distortion in a person's heart, something that reflected a dark mindset. Kamoshida's Palace was that of pure unadulterated lust.

A medieval castle filled with statues of himself or various girls around the skin that displayed their innocence in a perverse manner, echoes of male students were seen as slaves that were beaten meticulously, and the distorted version of Kamoshida flaunt through the castle as it's disgusting lustful king in nothing but a crown, heart shaped boxers and a fluffy red cape.

Through these halls was the key to stopping this man's twisted heart and the consequences to follow if they failed. Within one of the hallways, a large cluster of knights were gathered in a tizzy. Empty blue masks staring at a pile of molten gold, various statues of the Palace's Ruler melting into a golden soup in front of the culprit.

The suspect's body was shadowed by the large blaze behind them. "How dare you destroy the visage of our King Kamoshida?! You'll pay with your life wench!" One of the knights howled as all brandished their large blades. Feminine laughter came out of the figure alongside their appearance, emerald eyes glared down at the mass.

Ren was running as fast as he could, the teen helping a tired Ann with assistance from two others. The clothes the four of them wore were very different from what they wore in the real world, an attire created through the power of their Persona and rebellious souls.

The raven had a white domino mask bearing a black flare around the eyes, long black leather jacket paired alongside a bulletproof black vest, crimson gloves, black Italian leather pants, and black leather boots. Ann's entire was a full red leather blend suit that displayed her elegant lithe form, a red mask with cat ears, red stilettos and even a fake cat tail that seemed to move on its own.

Then there was Ryuji Sakamoto, a spiky blonde with brown eyes and Ren's first ally he made. His outfit was a metal skull shaped mask, a black suit bearing a metal spine plate along his back, red tie to a black bulletproof vest, black Italian leather boots and red gloves bearing metal knuckles.

Ren couldn't forget their odd party member Morgana either. A 1'6 ft tuxedo cat-like being with a form comparable to a bobblehead. Slightly large head with black fur on the top half of the head imitating a mask to the white bottom part, a yellow bandana scarf around the neck, a black body with white paws, white feet and white tip tail, and a brown fanny pack around the waist.

The two males were helping keep Ann steady, the platinum blonde was exhausted from summoning her main Persona. "We're almost at the exit, just need to go past this hanger." Morgana stated, his childlike male voice stern and strong. Smell of burning metal hit everyone's nose, all eyes were on the growing smoke that began to seep from an adjacent hallway.

"What the hell? Is someone else here because I don't think Kamoshida's knights are stupid to burn the castle to the ground?" The blonde was right but who was it. Getting into the Metaverse, much less a Palace, required the Metanav app. Without the mysterious phone app, no one could enter this place unless brought here by accident.

A familiar voice then reached Ren's ears. 'Thy Joker, that sounds like young Hokuto. It appears our acquaintance is making good on her threat to Madame Shiho's abuser.' Arsene spoke within the raven's head. It was an odd coincidence that the hotel manager was in the same corridor leading to the exit.

The group of four turned into the hall to see an army of Kamoshida's knights cornering Hokuto. None of them were blind to the gold statues of the Palace ruler burning behind the young woman, a sight that made Ren's main Persona purr in delight.

"Ain't that Shoutmon-san?! Did she get dragged in by accident like I did?!" Ann couldn't help the worried tone within her own voice. The not-cat of the group whistled at the destruction. "That girl isn't normal. It takes extreme heat to melt solid gold like that."

Ryuji guffawed at the amount of damage that the cyanette did by herself. "Talk about a one woman demolition crew! Maybe she can help us after we help her." The group was taken aback when Hokuto began to laugh at a guard's execution threat.

"A King you say?" The cyanette scoffed, her hand grasping the device around her neck. Morgana quickly notices the peculiar device. "I'm getting weird vibes from that gadget. Whatever it is, that thing is letting out a lot of power!" All three humans looked at their smaller teammate in surprise before facing Hokuto.

Something big was about to happen. "All I see is the evidence of a pervert who loves to harass those more innocent than him. It's time these trophies of sin burn and I'll light them ablaze with the fire of my soul!" A light purple aura circled around Hokuto's opposite hand.

The peculiar sparkled and moved in an inhuman but familiar to digital code if given a physical shape. The next words Hokuto said proved to Ren and his friends just how unique she was. "Let's do this Shoutmon! Biomerge!" Pure gold fire burst forth upon Hokuto swiping her hand across the device.

All of the guards had to jump back upon the massive blaze that now engulfed the teenage girl, her shadow growing amongst the wall of flame. For a second, the masked raven saw something familiar move within the fire. The visage of the Hotel Nexus Statue crossed Ren's mind.

"Hope you're ready!" Hokuto's voice boomed from the blaze but it was very off. There was a mechanical tone to it and all of Ren swore he heard another voice overlap, a scratchy, growlish young male one. A large gold armor leg and boot with a silver stripe going down the center alongside a back spike heel stepped out from the blaze.

What followed was a giant 16 ft armored beast, a golden dragon man that looked vaguely similar to the statue back at the hotel. Giant V shaped horns adorn the head alongside the golden tusk on the cheeks to form a pseudo helmet to the silver beak like muzzle of the dragon, a rounded chest plate that held two holes on opposite sides of the flat front, curved pauldrons leading to black wire hose that connected the slimmer arms bearing three fingered hands.

On the upper back was a helm very similar to the statue and that gold alloy went down the slim waist except for the silver circle on the stomach. And the part that showed this was once Hokuto was the bright emerald eyes burning with righteous fury.

"Cause OmniShoutmon is going to bring the house down!" Hokuto or OmniShoutmon bared her two fists in a boxer's stance as she let out a battlecry. Her eyes then flitted over the group of four, a look of surprise crossing the dragon's beakish muzzle. Something one of the guards noticed as he turned around to see the small group.

"The intruders are still here?! This rebellion will be squashed before it can grow!" Every knight began to shudder in an unnatural manner, their bodies immediately collapsing into streams of black and crimson shadow. The shadowy streams immediately rose up to form various Jack o' Lanterns, Incubus, Bicorn except for one.

One had transformed into a large knight in silver armor, ruby red angelic wings sprout from the back, their red skin face held a solemn stare as they held a large broadsword in front of them in a religious manner. Ren recognized that type of Shadow from a previous encounter, it was an Archangel.

"Mona and Skull, protect Ann!" With a flair, Ren pulled off his mask as blue flames swallowed it and Arsene materialized from the fire. The sight of the Curse Persona made a wild smirk run across OmniShoutmon's muzzle. "Knew there was something special about ya! Let's get to know each other after we toast these suckers with the melody of our burning souls!"

Orbs of pure sun yellow flame ignited the draconic being's claws, emerald eyes burning bright with something akin to passion. "Hard Rock Soul!" Both small suns doubled in size and with a howl OmniShoutmon tossed them with incredible force as if they were baseballs.

A large blast of fire exploded forth upon the two projectiles hitting one of the smaller Shadows, the intense heat burning groups of the ones that held no resistance to ash. Ren took the opportunity to strike the twisted monsters with their guard dropped by the blast.

His boot struck an Incubus from a high jump kick, he used the Shadow to spring towards a Jack O' Lantern stabbing his razor sharp straight into the pumpkin demon's skull. The raven then spun midair to send his hooked opponent straight into a small cluster of Pixies and quickly turned to a group of Bicorn.

"Eiha!" Red tinted black energy manifest between Arsene's claws, the Curse Persona morphing it into a short lance. The personification of the gentleman thief quickly threw into the head of one of the black stallions. The beast let out a painful neigh in response before exploding into a redfish black bonfire that grasped a few other Bicorns.

Some enemy Jack o' Lanterns lob multiple fireballs with a swing of lanterns, Pixies shot out bolts of lightning from their fingers and a herd of Bicorn went into a stampede covered in harsh wind magic. All of them were aiming for OmniShoutmon, who smiled maliciously at the attack.

"I am an inferno born of passion, baby!! You can't extinguish my soul that easily!" The draconic being leapt off the ground, arms spread out whilst her golden body flew through the air almost if riding on an invisible current. Hokuto swept past the lightning in a barrel roll, weaved through the onslaught of fireballs before going into a condor dive whilst bearing her horns.

"Mach Rush IV!" She picked up more speed as OmniShoutmon went straight to the herd of Bicorn with the intent to run them down. Looks of shock crossed the horn horses as every single one quickly found themselves bouncing off of the dragonoid then crash disgracefully to pieces. What was worse were their green horns easily shattered then sent off into rapid fire sharpnel, whatever wind magic on them now struck down multiple allies.

The only three non-combatants watched the scene in utter shock. "Holy shit! Hok- I mean OmniShoutmon completely wrecked that stampede like it was nothing!" Ryuji remembered how much of a pain those specific Shadows were but to see them being wiped out so quickly was insane.

"I think it's because of that weird armor all over her body. Doesn't seem like any kind of material that can be found in the Real World or even the Metaverse." The not-cat has seen very peculiar things in the metaphysical plane before but he didn't think whatever material that armor was made from one of them.

"It's not just that. Before she changed, she said 'Let's do this, Shoutmon.' What if Hokuto-san wasn't saying her last name but someone else's?" Ann's words hit her two companions like a truck. Joker had also caught what the platinum blonde and things started to click in his mind.

The thought swirled in his mind whilst sliding under the large blade aimed for his head from the boss Archangel. She wasn't really alone when they had conversed earlier. Hokuto had someone or something alongside her, a Persona perhaps? Could it be…?

Joker glanced at the once human, his eyes widened in mild horror when he saw the Archangel spread out their wings. A warning signal for a powerful attack. "Look out OmniShoutmon!" The dragonoid immediately spotted the aforementioned threat and her response was surprising.

OmniShoutmon stood her ground, a burning yellow aura burst from the brilliant gold armor. "Hamaon!" The angelic shadow pointed his blade at OmniShoutmon, a large blast of bright light erupted the steel straight at her. It was at this point that the observers realized an important detail about the former human's armor.

There was a purpose to those two holes on the chest. "Flamethrower, yeaah!!" Fire burst forth from the chest holes alongside OmniShoutmon's war cry, large golden streams that clashed with the blast of light. Both attacks struggled to swallow the other, a battle of attrition in physical form. Letting out a loud roar, the fire from OmniShoutmon doubled in size as she put more power into the attack.

In seconds did the two blazing streams engulf the light in its entirety before swallowing up the Archangel and their allies in a massive bonfire. With the last bits of fire out of her chest, OmniShoutmon fell to her knee panting roughly.

"*pant* Damn did that asshole have some power. Using Flamethrower like that just takes the air out of your lungs. *whistles*" The dragonoid pants, her eyes now settled on the group of familiar faces. Ren had run up to the former human with Arsene offering his hand so the Persona could help her up.

OmniShoutmon took the assistance without hesitation, a smile on her beak like muzzle. "Thanks big guy. I have a feeling you aren't a Digimon, but I do know that I like those knife heels." The Curse Persona raised a non-existent eyebrow before letting out a hearty laugh.

Ren couldn't help shaking his head albeit agreeing with the statement. That definitely solidified this was indeed Hokuto among some other things. "As much I love to continue this chat, I believe it's best to move it to outside the confines of this castle." Arsene's suggestion didn't go unnoticed to everyone.

It made no sense to stay any further in their current state, plus there were a lot of questions that needed to be answered about their draconic ally rather than just their next possible move. Ren did know one thing, he had a feeling his life was about to get flipped over once more. For good or bad was up to debate.

And that's it. Felt Digimon would suit more into this considering DNA Digivolution, Biomerge and Spirit Evolution is a thing. Hokuto's last name isn't Shoutmon if you hadn't noticed. Last name is undecided at the moment. I did add some personal headcanons than just giving the Persona actual personalities. Persona is in personality after all.

Until next time folks!

[dewittsend]

‘The Defenders’ Review [Episodes 1-4] {REPOST}

So far, so okay.

As of this moment, The Defenders has pretty much met my expectations. That’s not to say it’s great, though. Not yet.  

It’s difficult to pick where to begin, because there’s a lot to cover. And I may not talk about scenes in their exact chronological order, because I’m summarizing the important information. And since this series won’t stop shoving his importance down my throat, I guess we’ll start with Iron Fist aka Danny Rand, played by actor Finn Jones—which, while I am on the fence about this, may be the first issue. I was disappointed with Iron Fist’s own Netflix series. To me, it felt rushed. A last-minute collage of sloppy choreography, boring writing, and confusing character choices. I often found Jones’s acting to be cringe-inducing at best, and his is the first character we’re reintroduced to.  

SPOILERS AHEAD! Do proceed at thy own caution.

We find Danny in Cambodia, hot on the heels of The Hand after the events of his series left him looking at an empty mountainside where K'un-Lun, the monasterial city he was raised in, used to be, with no trace of his mentors to be found. He is currently joined by friend with benefits and best-part-of-his-show Colleen Wing. Rand gets into a tussle with the revived Elektra [Elodie Yung reprising, and notably annoying me less], who is here hunting down an enemy of The Hand. Brainwashed and merciless, a la the Winter Soldier, she gives Danny a hard time, but he fights her off and she retreats temporarily. Our heroes have a vague conversation with the target of Elektra’s assassination, who tells them that the war they’re fighting will be finished in New York City before croaking.  

We’re privileged (and I do mean that because Krysten Ritter is a delight) to catch up with Jessica Jones next, as she’s kicked out of a bar that’s closing at what appears to be 8:00 in the morning and runs into her friend Trish Walker. Jones is still recovering from the psychological toll of her battles with Kilgrave, and as such has indefinitely suspended her investigative services. She is approached by a woman whose husband, named John Raymond, is missing. Jessica initially blows her off, but is driven to take the case when someone calls her office and warns her against taking it. She’s stubborn like that.

Luke Cage is on his way out of a short stint in prison. His fellow inmates are cheering as he is walked out of his cell. We get a great moment where a fumbling rookie cop can’t find the right keys to remove Cage’s cuffs, so he just snaps the chain himself and drops the crumpled rings into the warden’s hand. The supporting cast of these individual series are turning up left and right, and doing so in smart, sensical ways that really make this world seem well-connected. For instance, it turns out that Franklin “Foggy” Nelson was Cage’s attorney, and is the reason he’s out so early.

Foggy, by the way, now works for rich-people lawyer Jeryn Hogarth after he and his best friend Matt Murdock chose to dissolve their law firm. But they’re still friends, sort of. It’s complicated.

And where IS Daredevil? The Man Without Fear and the man who started it all, Matthew is currently a man defeated. Although he now takes the majority of his cases pro bono, the fulfillment of that isn’t enough to stave away the dissatisfaction he feels since choosing to hang up the horns. Karen Page, now officially a reporter, catches up with him over a slightly awkward cuppa. They have a solid scene together, illustrating the romantic tension budding between them. Karen still believes in Daredevil’s ability to affect change, as she always has. Matt thinks those days need to stay behind him. Of course, it’s only so long he can do that.

Promises promises.

This may be a good time to talk about each character’s signature color and lighting palettes. They’ve been used as tonal gauges, and they may have something to tell us about who these people are. For Matt, it’s obviously red, which carries the instant connection to the Devil and brimstone, to rage and blood. Cage’s is yellow, which is well known to be a color invented by God for black people to wear. It also reflects the warmth with which Luke views his community. Danny’s is green {EDIT 2021: representative of his status and wealth as well as a nod toward the importance of jade in kung fu symbolism}, and we’re probably never going to see him rock the Iron Fist costume so just be happy he’s got loose-fitting green clothes that look nice when he’s punching people. Finally, Jessica’s ranges between blue and purple; harking back to the “Purple Man” who consumed so much of her life when she was under his control, and also reflecting her much colder dispotion towards people and their problems, despite being a P.I. There are times when this lighting technique gets kind of oppressive, like when Matt’s entire apartment is bathed in fire-tones, but it helps to create some truly memorable cinematography. Case in point: one of this first half’s best moments is Luke’s bus ride back into Harlem. Set to a silky D'Angelo track, we see the golden glow of the sunset filter in through the bus’s gritty and fingerprint smudged windows. And views of the Manhattan skyline, and of Harlem’s streets, through what looks like avintage film camera, all with a sepia tint. It’s breathtaking, soothing, and probably had a little extra impact because I’m a Harlem resident myself.  

Cage reunites with his boo Claire Temple, Rosario Dawson’s nexus character through all of these shows, for a little bit of brown sugar. But before the two can settle into a routine together, Cage is pulled back into the sorrows of the streets by Detective Misty Knight. She informs him that several young men in the community have been getting involved in some seedy affairs, and some of them have gone missing. It seems they’re being used as expendable henchmen, pulling off whatever odd jobs they’re told to, whether it’s delivering drugs or making dead bodies disappear (which is what Danny Rand catches him doing later on). Cage takes it upon himself to investigate the affairs of one young man in particular named Cole.  

In between all of this, we’re introduced to our Big Bad. National Treasure and sci-fi icon Sigourney Weaver portrays the enigmatic Alexandra, whose body is beginning to fail her after centuries of life. Weaver is doubtless a tremendous actor, but even she can’t escape some typical mustache-twirling clichés (a friend of mine put it better than I can: “It’s not innovative for the cream white villain to find beauty in Rachmaninov but not in the lives of others, like, we understand!!!”). That aside, she brings something fun to this show just by the virtue of who she is. And at six feet, the actress’ physical presence really makes an impact. Alexandra towers over characters like Madame Gao and is almost eye level with Luke Cage. Her presence feels like a legitimate threat, and Weaver does an excellent job of portraying someone with significantly more power than she lets on. Our first demonstration of this is in a scene between her and Madame Gao, who has been built up throughout these shows as a force to be reckoned with, who had Vincent D'Onofrio’s Kingpin shaking in his shoes. This scene between them ends when Alexandra literally tells Gao to “finish feeding the birds for me,” hands her a bag of seeds, and walks away like the CHIEF CHICK SHE IS GO ‘HEAD SIGOURNEY!!!

*ahem* So sorry.  

It is eventually revealed that Alexandra is the person behind Elektra’s revival and reconditioning. Conveniently, Elektra doesn’t remember anything about her past life except how to fight. Thus, Alexandra has been using her to take out The Hand’s enemies and as a personal bodyguard. And after receiving the news that her body is reaching a terminal state of decline, Alexandra decides to accelerate her plans for the destruction of New York. As such, she has her people trigger a massive earthquake (the ramifications of which have not yet been fully uncovered) that affects everyone within the island of Manhattan. Nothing is exactly leveled yet, though. This seems to only be the beginning of her sinister plot.  

This brings the first episode to an end, and over the course of the next three, our four vigilante heroes follow individual leads that start to bring them together, at first in pairs. Iron Fist has a confrontation with Luke Cage in an alleyway when Cage catches the Kung Fu kid beating up on Cole. They have an entertaining fight, as the petulant and bewildered Rand keeps striking Cage with no affect. He finally unleashes the iron fist right onto Luke’s jaw and knocks the big man off of his feet into a metal gate. It’s only later, when Luke recants the experience to Claire, that she sets up a meeting between the two, and they have a conversation that is another highlight of the show so far. Cage essentially privilege-checks Danny for being a rich white kid and taking out his frustration on the underprivileged with little regard for their lives, instead of trying to use his wealth and influence to take The Hand down from an administrative level. These two characters are famously friends in the source material, and I can see the direction the writers are trying to take them here, wherein the older Luke is mentoring Danny and opening his eyes to a side of life he’s never considered before, even with all the trauma of losing his parents and being tortured raised by monks. Danny has a tendency to fly off at the handle, so the more patient Luke is there to ground him. It’s more father and son than two good friends, but it’ll have to do for the versions of these characters we’ve been given.  

Jessica Jones returns to her office at one point to find John Raymond with a gun to her friend Malcolm’s head. He’s panicked, telling her that there’s no future for him now that The Hand know he’s being investigated. On cue, Elektra crashes down the door to Jessica’s apartment and attacks. Raymond shoots himself before she can kill him, and she escapes before Jessica can catch her. But because of her rooting around in all of this, in addition to stealing evidence from a crime scene, Jessica’s put herself on Misty Knight’s radar. When she’s brought in for questioning, Matt Murdock steps in to defend (ha) her.  

At one point, we see that Alexandra has a hostage—Stick, Matt Murdock’s blind mentor. They have an exchange that contains the phrase “old friend” and other related banter. Stick, rather unexpectedly, starts prophesying about the Iron Fist, which confused me because he’d never mentioned him in either season of Daredevil. You’d think he might have in season two, when the Hand presented a more imminent threat to the city. But nah, he just spent the majority of his screen time groaning that Matthew wasn’t joining “the war.” So it seems a bit ham-fisted for him to now have this hard-on for Iron Fist, even if it does make sense that he’d know who he is. I just think it required some more setup. Anywho, big surprise, Stick gets hold of a weapon and slices his own hand off to escape, continuing to cement himself as perhaps the most hardcore old man on television.  

See? No biggie.

All our protagonists’ investigations lead them to one building: Midland Circle. Danny arrives there in suit and tie, ready to threaten them with financial and political action, as well as reveal himself to be “The Immortal Iron Fist,” which he says more often than “hello,” but since everyone in this series makes fun of him for it I can kind of excuse it. Alexandra, nonplussed as always, tells him that the only difference between him and the other Iron Fists she’s met over the years is that this time “I won’t kill you.” And GOD do I get chills.  

What follows is the action highlight of the series’ first half. Iron Fist gets better choreography than anything we saw in his show. He spends about a minute fighting Alexandra’s security detail, and right when he gets overpowered, Luke Cage busts in. They do battle side-by-side for a while, all until Jessica and Murdock (wearing Jessica’s scarf over his face) arrive on the same floor. It may be this show’s “hallway sequence,” as these Marvel Netflix projects have become known for. It’s well-lit and gives everyone a good amount to do—except Jessica, who might be the most vulnerable of the four as she’s got no real fighting technique, and for all her strength lacks any indestructible skin to fall back on when confronted with weapons. Although for what it’s worth we finally get to see her reunite with Luke Cage. That reunion is built on in the next episode (not that way, pervert) and it’s great to see their chemistry ignite again.  

There’s a point in the skirmish when Matt senses that “Someone’s coming. Something.” This something is Elektra, but he doesn’t realize it at first, and they fight for a good while. Matt takes a moment to listen to her breath, which causes him to stop fighting. But she doesn’t have a heartbeat. WHICH IS ACTUALLY SUPER SPOOKY AND COOL! She hesitates when he says her name, then raises her blade to strike Matt down, only to be knocked away yet again by Danny. What a guy, that guy.  

The four of them escape together, and in the next episode commandeer a Chinese restaurant as a temporary hideout. This is the first time we get to see all four of them interact, and it’s pretty fun. Cage and Jones muse over how absurd this situation is, because oddly enough, they’re sort of the straight men in this situation. They may have powers, but their worlds have never been touched by the supernatural. Rand and Murdock, however, are well-versed in this field. Thusly, they spend a good deal of time trying to catch the others up. This is also the episode that has some of Charlie Cox’s best acting yet, as a paranoid and frustrated Matt who doesn’t want to give in to the idea that A. what he suspects to be happening is in fact happening and B. he needs to involve these people in his life in order to handle it. And to some extent, all of them feel that way. While Danny is keen to team up, Jessica is immediately against it, and Luke is reluctant as well. All of them are loners by nature, who’ve each experienced pain as a result of opening up to people.  

When we’re done watching them bounce dialogue off each other, Stick shows up, sword in one hand, stump as the other, to do what he does best—exposit and tell the heroes what the stakes are. It’s not long before Alexandra ALSO sneaks into the restaurant (everyone can move like a ninja when this show wants them to) and tries to reason with her enemies, saying that if Iron Fist is willing to go with her, she’ll spare the lives of his friends. Which is almost definitely completely 105% a lie. The episode, and the first half of this series, ends with Elektra ready to square off against the four vigilantes + Stick.

To give my overall impression, I’m enjoying Defenders so far, and I think the actors are too. The problem to this point isn’t the actor’s level of chemistry, but that of the characters. I’m still hoping to see the bond between Danny and Luke expand into something more than just “shut up white kid,” even though that may well be what Danny needs to hear a few times. There needs to be a believable dependence between these four people. And although I know it’s a lot to juggle, I hope the supporting characters aren’t just dropped completely. They probably won’t be, though. I expect that as The Hand start getting closer to what they want, the ramifications will spread across the Defenders’ sphere of influence, from Turk to Claire Temple*.  

Other expectations/hopes for the latter half include:  

A cool introduction of the Hand’s remaining “Fingers”

Colleen v. Elektra!!!!

White Hat will be from, or have ties to Wakanda

Elektra will inevitably snap out of it. The hope here is to see her pick up her signature dual sai and stand with the Defenders

Alexandra could have some further connection to one of these heroes. Preliminarily, I thought it would be interesting if she was Matthew’s long-lost mother. Though, I guess that would really be pushing it

*Claire can’t survive this, right? I mean we all know Luke and Jessica have to end up together, and Claire’s not just going to give him up. I don’t want to see her go, but I also don’t know if there’s any way for her character to develop. Of course, there’s no guarantee Marvel will stick to the comics…but the Jess-Luke romance seems like too much of a fan favorite to pass on.

Stick’s gonna get stuck and tell Matt he’s proud of him

Whatever happened to Stone/maybe Lord Darkwind, the spooky dude Stick was talking to in season one of Daredevil? Let’s get him out here

Someone just say Tony Stark’s name. I mean, come on. The guy lives in the tallest building in New York and no one’s wondering what he’d think about all this? I know we can’t afford RDJ but is his character’s name gonna break the bank? (Yeah, it definitely would.)

Bullseye tease? Maybe? I dunno, man, they already robbed him of his big moment by killing Elektra without him

I already got THAT THING spoiled for me, THAT THING about THE OTHER GUY, but it would be on this list if I hadn’t

Oh and also Blade please

And so conclude my thoughts on the first half of The Defenders. There they are, lookin’ like Nirvana. Which I guess makes sense, given the marketing for this series. I’ll be writing a similarly long-winded and unnecessary reaction to the latter half. I hope you’ll check them both out.  

THANK you for reading if indeed you did read! Keep on watching, friends. And as always: Blessings & Blexcellence!

-JKW

[mamaluigi2018-commsopen]

Mama Luigi’s Top 10 Favorite Games of All Time.

Hey, everyone! Mama Luigi here. Just wanted to create this list to show appreciation to the games that have given me the most joys in my life and so you can all have an idea what kind of games I love. I will be going into small detail on each game, give a description on why I love these games. and also add my favorite track from each game. Alright. Let’s begin!

10. Mega Man 10 (heh....funny)

This was the most recent Mega Man game we got until Mega Man 11 arrived. This was released in 2010 for the PS3, Xbox 360, and WiiWare, and now available in Mega Man Legacy Collection 2 for PS4, Xbox One, PC, and Nintendo Switch. The story is that a virus called “Roboenza” has appeared and have caused robots to go out of control. It’s up to Mega Man and for the first time joining his side, Proto Man, to stop the menace and uncover the cause of the virus. Many would think that at the 10th game, the gameplay of Mega Man would get stale. Not so! The platforming is still tight and a fair challenge, the robot masters are some of my personal favorites of the series with Blade Man, Nitro Man, Strike Man, and my baby boi Sheep Man. The music is fantastic with tracks such as Stage Select, Solar Man stage, and Wily Stage 1. The weapons may not have been as useful as Mega Man 9, but the good ones are really good like Blade Man weapon and Nitro Man weapon. Plus the added DLC with playable Bass and 3 stages based on the Mega Man Game Boy games are a great bonus!

Favorite Track: Nitro Man

9. Castlevania: Symphony of the Night

Released in 1997 for the Playstation and rereleased on the PSN store and PSP as part of the Castlevania Dracula X Chronicles. After the disappearance of Richter Belmont, Alucard is tasked with invading his father’s palace and put an end to his reign of terror. Symphany of the Night broke the mold of  the Castlevania traditional platform gameplay with a non-linear explorative action adventure similar to the Metroid series, which coined the term Metroidvania. Later games would adopt the Symphony of the Night gameplay such as Aria of Sorrow and Order of Ecclesia. What I love about this game is just the amount of free roam the game allows for you to do and what kind of items you can find. If you are having trouble with a part of the game, there is a variety of solutions such as a certain spell or a certain weapon combinations that can help you out. The graphics are a clean, smooth sprite style and the music is some fantastic CD quality music. The love I have for this game makes me even more excited for Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night to come out in 2019.

Favorite Track: Dracula’s Castle

8. Kirby: Planet Robobot

Released for the Nintendo 3DS in 2016. Planet Popstar has been converted in a mechanized world due to President Haltmann and his goons. Able to snatch one of the bots, Kirby embarks on a robotic adventure to free his planet from the machine menace. I love Kirby. I love Robots. Put them together and you get a absolute fantastic adventure with great Copy Abilities old such as Sword, Fire, and Hammer, as well as new such as Doctor, Poison, and ESP. The levels are well design to emphasized the robot theme and the soundtrack was given a more techno feel. The best parts are definitely the Robobot segments! It can not only smash enemies along the way, buy also copy it’s own set of abilites!

Favorite Track: Super Nova (vs. Star Dream Soul OS) or “P.R.O.G.R.A.M”

7. Super Smash Bros. for Nintendo 3DS

Released for the Nintendo 3DS in 2014, Smash 3DS was a companion game for Super Smash Bros. for Wii U. Nintendo’s greatest are pitted against each other in battle to see who will come out in top. Due to not owning a Wii U, I was a bit skeptic about getting the 3DS version, thinking it was only a dumb down version. I can now say it was not the case! Smash 3DS is just about as a real Smash game as the Wii U version. Having a cast of 65 characters, there a character for almost anyone. The addition of Omega Stages allowed for any stage to be play for competitive match. The choice between For Glory and For Fun was a fantastic idea that allowed any kind of player to have fun. Smash Run was a fun game mode to run in a maze collecting power ups to face your opponents. The music was god like with themes coming from a variety of games and remixes included. So many hours playing with my friends, I know I will always cherish this game and am looking forward to Smash Ultimate this December. BTW, my mains are Pikachu, Luigi, and Lucina.

Favorite Track: Tie between “Gerudo Valley (Legend of Zelda)” or “Main Theme”

6. Shovel Knight

Released in 2014 for the PC and Wii U, with later releases on 3DS, PS3, PS4, Xbox One, PS Vita, and Nintendo Switch. Shovel Knight stars our titular character on quest to stop the evil Enchantress and her Order of No Quarter with his trusty shovel. Steel thy Shovel! Shovel Knight is an indie created by Yacht Club as their first game, and man do they give it their all! Shovel Knight is styled after the NES days not only in art style and music, but in difficulty as well. With exciting stages with their own gimmicks and precise platforming, Shovel Knight is definitely for those who want to relive the NES days. The music is amazing, the characters have so much personality, and the 3 DLC are basically full games put in. Plauge of Shadows is a fun mode with combining different potions. Spector of Torment is my favorite mode with wall climbing, slicing enemies, and Scythe Skating (yes I said Scythe Skating). King of Cards is not out yet, but is showing promise to be just as fun as the 3 other campaigns.

Favorite Track: La Danse Macabre (Spector Knight Stage)

5. Sonic Colors

Released in 2010 for the Nintendo Wii and Nintendo DS. Sonic the Hedgehog and Miles “Tails” Prower must stop Dr. Eggman from capturing planets for his Interstellar Amusement Park and free the captive Wisps. Sonic Colors takes the game play the day time levels from Sonic Unleashed and puts him in a high speed adventure with amazing level designs such as Tropical Resort and Starlight Carnival. The Wisp power up allow Sonic to absorb the Wisp and take a variety of forms such as the Cyan Laser or Yellow Drill. What I really enjoy is how the White Wisp the only thing that gave you the Boost so you had to plan out when is the best place to use it. The best feeling I get from this game is sense of speed I get.

Favorite Track: Planet Wisp Act 1

4. Hyrule Warriors: Definite Edition

Released in 2014 for the Wii U, released for 3DS in 2015, and finally for the Nintendo Switch. The Dark Sorceress Cia has called the greatest villains from across the Zelda timelines. Now Zelda, Link, the White Sorceress Lana, Self-Proclaimed Hero Linkle( and best girl), plus heroes from the entire series must stop her and save Hyrule. An absolute fantastic hack n slash adventure where you get use your favorite Zelda Characters and just wreck everything in your path. With a fantastic soundtrack of original tracks and remixes of past Zelda themes. An expansive Adventure Map where you can collect heart pieces and unlock new weapons, collecting material to expand your characters strength. You can spend so many hours on this game and just have a good time.

Favorite Track: Linkle’s Theme

3. Metroid Fusion

Released in 2002 for the Nintendo Game Boy Advance. After an expedition to SR-388, Samus is infected with X-Parasite. After being given a vaccine containing Metroid DNA, Samus is tasked with investigating the BSL Station. This game. This god damn game was my first horror game. It terrified my 8 year old self. The tense atmosphere, the feeling of isolation, the horrible monstrosities all being after you was made perfectly. And we can not forget about the the nightmare fuel that is the SA-X. That thing was horrifying! The gameplay is fantastic with just shooting down monster after monster and fighting to survive.

Favorite Track: Vs. Nightmare

2. Super Mario World

Released in 1991 as a launch title for the SNES. Mario travels to Dinosaur Land to save Peach(again) from Bowser(again). Super Mario World was my first console game and I share many fond memories of it. The graphics are great with a nice color palette, the levels are fun and varied in design, the Super Cape is an amazing power up, allowing you to skip levels with the right timing. It also introduces one of our favorite dinosaurs, Yoshi. The music is catchy and is remixed into almost every track in the game. This game is truly a masterpiece.

Favorite Track: Staff Roll

1. Pokemon Emerald.

Released in 2005 for the Game Boy Advance, Pokemon Emerald is the 3rd game in the Gen 3 Pokemon games, following Ruby and Sapphire. As moving to the Hoenn Region, a young trainer travels defeating gym leaders, catching Pokemon and stopping the villainous Team Magma and Team Aqua. This is it. This is without a doubt my favorite game of all time. My very first game I ever bought with my own money. Many hours put in to catching all the Pokemon, training and raising different teams, competing in the Battle Frontier. Team Magma and Team Aqua were the first villains to actually feel like a threat, the Hoenn region is an amazing land scape with well known areas such as Mt. Chimney, Meteor Falls, and Sootopolis CIty. The Pokemon designs were made more excotic looking and the music is simple sublime with the use of trumpets. I love this game and I will continue to love and play for all of eternity.

Favorite Track: “Littleroot Town” “Route 120″ and “Ending Credits”

So what did you all think? Do you share any of my opinions on these games? What are some of your favorite games of all time? I would love to know! Have a great day to you all and this is Mama Luigi signing out!

[dahmer]

oh pi! at es. ples. ples.

Oh! just, subtle, and mighty opium! that to the hearts of poor and rich alike, for the wounds that will never heal, and for 'the pangs that tempt the spirit to rebel,' bringest an assuaging balm; eloquent opium! that with thy potent rhetoric stealest away the purposes of wrath; and to the guilty man, for one night givest back the hopes of his youth, and hands washed pure of blood.... qtd // thomas de Quincey // Confessions of an English Opium Eater

here’s a man, once ill-tempered of turks and trendsetting vices, speaking to the grand stage of the world fashioned in this season’s epide-mock. a warm, fuzzy coatish wear nestled in the covers. small american towns know these styles too well to count body bags, along cotton pads and china scabs, among mother’s basements and luxury high risers graduating all from the fancy-feels certificate of blues. those roxy pebbles, how they start us so--an endless invitation to long summer warmth that childhood bathtubs and lawn-mower sundays would once bring.

when did the foil side decision set in. was there truly a technique to not waste the evaporated smoke, or just somedaze endless-ego-talk of the mighty soldiers in the opium army of guilt. shame, yes sir! solute to toot, scrap the straw edges as the hours pass waiting for the guy with the goods. were you in california when fent came along, past the liquid patch of time-released days. the recents 16s, 17s, two thousands eighteens. labs grade, synthesizing variations to parade as china. “east coast man, east coast shit. it’s the best ever. no, nah nah bro, i got you. bud took one point, was on his ass for hours. nod on fire.”

did chemists know the china rhetoric will turn fent-for-all. markets of east coast fantasies, oblivious to west coast privileges. of potency. of people. of starry nights in smashing pumpkin music video dreams, riding through hollywood as a secret member of the powder variety. it’s a plague paraded as a epidemic because that word has no world of meaning to the good folk playing their igno-rent; recycling stigmas of junky choice rattling thrillists. despite the proof inside the bottles. the truth in every bottle. in every cabinet. of every person. with every doctor. who ever felt. the normalcy sensation of one of the most blanked words: pain.

pain is surely what that just, subtle, and mighty opium! creates in the hearts of the poor and rich alike. the rich die often in the experimentation state of emergency someone labeled as ‘the opioid problem’--problem? oh lily, you know as much as your wilted leaves and neighboring trees the silly stamp we slap when using ‘problem’ to critically deconstruct something magnificently complex.this ‘problem’ has destroyed empires for centuries. it’s notorious and makes no attempt to conceal its power in narrative recollections of the living  authors that have spoke the truths of humanity across language, land, and lives. yet big pharma pulled off opana and roxicodone in the last 20 years. if there’s any declaration of the fools ruling the castle in modern times, this must be the great exemplary act. the profit of pain, oh yawn. i’m sure the academic discourse that has capture this best is brilliant it construction and nature, but what difference does it make in an opiated masses?

i’ve not canceled my subscriptions to the periodical dual tragedies of the early 21st century, as they remain unchanged and unchallenged: (1) a sheer lack of empathy in the common man; (2) the curious and devastating complacency and lack of outrage to what seems to unfold before our eyes, rapidly and carelessly so now that it’s almost as if those navigating the unseen lines of powers that be mock us, appropriately so. if we’re no opiated, we’re not outrage or active either. generalization? yes. but for those who fall outside of this, fight causes that continually reveal themselves as premeditated chess pieces in the political playing field that has seep into dominating the social sphere that delivers use a constantly-running facet of media and targeted, privatized ads.

i am an addict.

i can clean. M knows. some family knows. the weight that has been lifted is ineffably enduring. i’m frustrated, naturally, at the golden years missed. the creativity, the goodness of my heart, kindness of soul, charity, intellectual ability, sincerity, and passionate interests. how they dulled and disappeared. the weight of their reappearance should be the least of my worries, and for now have been. i’m only a week into my methadone treatment program. but my partner knows now. and that was the missing link, that was needed for so long. he left. i stay in the apartment alone. had the worst week. four days into starting treatment, i get arrested on a fix-it ticket that never was completely closed in a difference country because the DMV didn’t inform the courthouse I’ve squared everything away. I was given a new court date to bring this documentation in myself after final payments were made and the matter seemed settled. but the letter was sent to my old apartment, so i was completely unaware a warrant in los angeles was issued. a few short blocks away from my new apartment in newport beach, where M returned for the first time since walking in on me and learning of the addiction that exposure so much (that was the most bittersweet, hard, important, thankful, and devastating night of my life--but revitalizing. I never realize how much everything rested on just M being told or finding out.). I’m almost home, about to see it, sirens go on. get pulled over. second car arrives. i’m in cuffs. call my works, and text M to say I wouldn’t be coming home to give him space.

at this point, i was told i would be transferred to LA that night, and see a judge in the morning. have everything taken care of. but orange county SA jail is notorious for lies and abuse. there was no intentions of this, and i went from holding cell to orange jumpsuit soon enough. smart this time, i disclosed my sexuality. was given a special block, with an actual two-person jail cell. like the movies. my cell mate was great. jason ciega. curious sexuality. talked heavily about girlfriends, but made subtle jokes that went: “when you’re expecting pussy, but life gives ya dick... but hey, there’s nothing wrong with that too.” He vaguely mentioned his sexuality was “whatever”--I respected and explained why I identify as queer. i have some hidden white china fent mix left i snuck in, even after the cavity search. I stressed needing the bathroom for diarrhea, in fear of the 4-6 gram rocks being found. they kept stressing if i had drugs, it would be another charge. but with my profession work title, they didn’t really consider that with me. i hated that i had to use again so early in treatment, but this avoided the sickness. and made me sleep through the day and a half before M bailed me out. when i got celled up with jason, he shared his rations he bought, like cookies and stuff. i shared my china, in very small doses. he still O.D.’d. turned blue and purple, unconscious, eyes behind head. he took off his shirt after sniffing the first baby bit. i snorted probably 30x what he did, and barely felt something, tolerance. his speck had him worried after 5 mins. “I don’t feel it”

I tell him it wait another 5-10 mins at least. he starts ripping up my mattress and sheet to make a pillow and bedsheet. at first i’m scared this would cause the jail keeper to punish or abuse me. i saw it happened. beds are supposed to be returned in the form they were given. but the special blocks for “protective custody” and queers were treated with more respect, out of fear I assume. The regular jail area is a massive shared space with dozens of rows of beds, and people organized and grouped by race and gangs that you must join right away. I was glad I didn’t have to endure that. I did briefly at 19 for an alcohol in public ticket. only spent 4-6 hours in actual jail-orange-suits area after 10-15 hours of hold cells then. realized how racially divided even jails were. but this experience was more pleasant, given the circumstances. before jason began nodding out, he was fun and talkative in an enjoyable well. he revealed a great chest and body--small frame, but bulky build with tattoos. an insecure boy turn nice guy that acts like one of the guys. referenced odd jokes that seemed code for him being a bottom, and wanting sexual companionship if we ended up bunking for awhile. mutual only, of course. i laughed these attempts off. jason was lonely, and i wasn’t there for inmate sex. i’m in love with M, and still spent every moment worrying and texting about him, and what i’ve done to him. how little he knows about this addiction, how much his family might enable him to think narrowly or ignorantly about the realities of this as a disease.

M abandoned me the day I began treated, 2 mornings after he caught me and everything in our lives froze. we sat on the bed that night, side by side, for hours. him crying in his hands mostly, for hours. me frozen in a wave of emotions. i was a fault. i was honest and told him everything. this was the only thing i kept from him, and told him why. the shame, the guilt. the fear. losing him. rejection of me, disposal of my efforts and love from him and his family. he said we needed time apart. i begged him to be there for me, no matter what the outcome was of our relationship, at least in the beginning. knowing this is the most crucial time to have a support system. he expressed things like believing I’ve just been high this whole time, and asked questions that extracted as much shame and guilt as possible. he had every right to. it’s all i’ve see him and his twin ever do. to the point of their older brother needing serious psychological helping, crying out literally shouting how suicidal he is, but they fail to understand how mental health works, how humor and jokes are masks that should be taken seriously. M was hurt most that I lied. I did lie. Not directly, but did lie at times when he asked why i was in the bathroom for so long. It was unspoken, so it didn’t feel like lying. More like protecting, but it was lying. And I will forever be in the wrong.

Going to jail may have ruined any chance of him coming back. And I can’t stand that thought. He doesn’t know what I’ve been going through. How long it took to be honest about my addiction, what steps I took to try to get clean on my own, the lies you convince yourself off--that you can do it alone, that it’ll work out, that you’ll run out of money so you’ll have to stop. My only other treatment attempt told me I must tell M. He’s the closest to me that I love and trust, who is a good influence, not a user, and could be my support system that sees me through this, and can monitor me during the first 3-7 days that are most crucial. M mentioned how he could have come home to find me dead. O.D. we watched docs and podcasts on the epidemic, but they don’t go into how hard this experience is. How withdrawal is considered one of the hardest things a human can possible do in life, and takes incredible amounts of courage, strength, and dedication that M will probably never even experience in his life. The reports just assume people know this stuff. And under-represent who is most likely to O.D. I’ve never come close. I haven’t been high in, years. I used to stay normal. M, and others like him--those who don’t know--don’t understand that. I was never chasing the dragon. I hate the addiction, quickly. I was too smart for it. Too focused and dedicated to have this problem.

But I did, and unless I dose a certain amount, I couldn’t function. Bedridden in the worst sickness imaginable. To those who’ve experience withdrawal, it’s not just the constant, non-stop, extreme physical sickness. It’s the relentless psychological sickness. Torture. That doesn’t even given you a 30 second break. Hearing that your sick for 3-5 days might sound easy because we call it “getting sick” or “dope sick”--but it’s a far worse experience that can even be fatal for some. My finances and lack of wanting to be doped out, nodding and unproductive all day luckily allowed my addiction to plateau at taking a certain amount to stay well, and doing that everyday for over a year. Til I was caught. It would slightly increase, but fluctuate, based on product, potency, and source going around. I never shot. Only snorted, that was my ritual. And when I was stupid, I would smoke. It was a waste, that burned through product much faster. Which meant more money and time dedicated to staying well. The consistent tolerance and dosing makes my chances of O.D’ing incredibly low. If M knew me as an addiction, which he couldn’t--I never disclosed--he’d know this was hell. Torture. Something I spent endless nights up all night wishing, hoping, begging for change. 

The fright came from the Friday I got into a detox treatment program. I told him two nights before I needed him for supported. He made a sly remark about “what, you’re going to force me to stay around or you’ll OD and die if I don’t”--but it was among other things, so it was unclear what would happened. And days past, with little words exchanged, but M stayed around. When he returned from work, I was in bed and he has if I stayed treatment. I said yes, but didn’t explain or speak confidently out of fear of him not knowing what these treatments were, how much research I’ve done, how I picked this on purpose with a goal to get off treatment drugs soon too and never be dependent on a substance. He didn’t ask much questions. He shortly said it’s good, then revealed he’s packing up and staying at this parents for the weekend. I froze in silence. He packed and said some of the same narrowed perspective claims from the other night--how my sibling and her spouse are there to help me. M thinks because they’ve both been in AA, and one is an ex-heroin addict in healthy, long-term recovery that they can just drop their full time college, 3 jobs, and toddler to take care of me. They’re wonderful support systems, but the detox clinic described who needs to be around the first 3 days for my outpatient detox, and it perfectly defined M. 

But I must respect M’s decisions, feelings, angry, and pain. He has his own healing to do. All I said was that I need support more now than ever, so please don’t forget me. This was in response to him saying I could always call him if I needed something--which was worded in a way that read like ‘call in emergencies, but I’m out.’ So I went through it alone, all 3 days. In bed. I called a friend for xanax, even though you have to be very very careful taking both. I was, and needed to sleep if no one would be there to check on me. At this time, I thought either M felt his hurt and pain outweighed what I was going through, and that’s understandable regardless of my experience actually being a life-threatening disorder. What I wish he knew was that most people who O.D.--the ones on the news all the time. It’s most from relapse. Stopping, detoxing, getting clean. Then a trigger happens, or hope gives up, opportunity comes, or you feel alone and no one cares. Whatever the reason, you return to the drug and take a similar dose, or even smaller dose, than what you were doing before. But your tolerance fades as quickly as it builds, and is different for everything. So most O.D. deaths are simply from people relapsing and taking too much without knowing where their new tolerance stands. Any temptation or relapse could be my last breathe.

I still live in that fear, but I’m motivated and happy to finally get clean. It’s all I wanted, I just couldn’t do it alone. And knew this. The summer realized it most. I spent the summer trying to find the right time and opportunity to tell M. He has no idea how many plans and times and moments I wanted to. Even my trip to NYC. I wanted t come back clean so bad. It doesn’t work that way, You need those in your life who support and love you to help. That’s what a relationship is. It’s like if I was diagnosed with cancer. But social misconception and outdated conception allows this opposite, toxic reaction. Where now I exist in this constant mental cycle that centers on figuring out what to do for M. It would hurt my sister, so that would be my biggest regret, but I think M wants a gift from me more than anything; however, knowing him well, he’d never ask. If I just gave it to him, he’d be free. No more doubts or embarrassments or beating himself up about not knowing or what others would think. No more hating and shaming me. He wouldn’t ever have to deal with it, which is what I realize he wants in life. Where we disagree. I can’t play video games and ignore maintaining healthy efforts all day. He’s made great improvements, but blind to others that allowed him to say hurtful things like without even consciousness of it, but would be shocked and hurt if someone said the same back to him. This created a state where if anything that required him to get up from playing video games in his ‘free time’ (non work hours) is a drag that he resents or avoids at all costs. It cost the friendships built between my closest friends, who love him and he claimed to love them. This constant thread was something I battled with most. I would count the weekends I would spend doing whatever he wanted--hanging with siblings, friends, work functions, friends parties. 11 weekends go by, then one movie night with my friends and he wouldn’t even pretend to want to go. It hurt, but I learned other people’s needs are an annoyance or deterrent to his rightful ability to be glued to the computer. I know this was a big factor in never bringing up my addiction. Already he hated any serious conversations, even if I tried to make them positive about reaching goals. Even mentioning one would cause eye rolls and audible disgusts, vocalizing how he just doesn’t like them or “aren’t good at them”--which never made sense to me. I understand he didn’t like to have conversations that implied he’s less than perfect or right, but it creates this wall around you where no one will ever be able to grow or talk or really improvement your or our lives together. I didn’t think much of it. But now that I’m learning my triggers, I’m not blaming M. It will always be me. But I regret starting to pick up his habits in attempts to try and connect more with him, and be closer. I started playing video games more and more, and all my interests disappeared. There was never a time I played video games that didn’t require going to the bathroom and dosing. I couldn’t live that life. But I wanted to build a life with M. When he stopped talking an interests in sharing my activities, I doubled down with his. But things that felt non-productive and antisocial to me became triggers.

There are other issues that caused distance and perhaps his lack of interest or investment in my friends and desires. One, my addiction. Where my interests began to dull. A terrible cycle that grows like a fungus, and can stem from one activity to get closer, but affect another. Also, I gained a considerable amount of weight. This was before my addiction started, but at a time that M became less physical. Then associated it with my weight gain. This was always curious. All compliments, words of encouragement, positive reinforcement, or sexual intimacy ceased, yet I was expected to work harder on health. I should have, but I never went a period of my sexual life where exercise and health were part of my routine because it continued my ability to have a sexual life. In a serious relationship, taking this element away makes it hard to understand how or if anything would restore such intimacy sense there’s no expression, communication, or honesty from M. Just gestures and small hints. He experienced some weight gained, and when he finally got a job after college--after 8 months of playing video games all day as I worked 2-3 jobs 6 days a week plus went to the gym, cleaned the house, and made dinner most nights for him and our roommate--he took up the gym and has done a great job focusing on getting in shape. I expressed this once, and it was something that was some important and meaningful because it consumed by consciousness, but I still wonder a year later if he understood or truly took to heart pointing out that when he got a full time, professional job and began working out after work, he came home daily needing positive reinforcement, acknowledgement, and encouragement about his gym efforts. Even in the early stages when not much can be seen.

I expressed that before grad school, when I really gained the weight from the stress and demands, I too signed up for the gym after my first, full time professional job after college. On top of this, I continued working on Sundays at a restaurant doing back-breaking labor I underplayed because tips were good. My one day off--Saturdays--I spent putting our first apartment together, shopping, planning, going to every family event or friend invite he extended, while keeping up with cooking and cleaning. During this time, M never acknowledged my gym efforts, progress, or work. I think once he complimented me in a tank, but apart from that, I believe he saw that this was just my role. Expected and easy, like it was nothing to essentially try my best to be the best version of myself, be the best boyfriend I could be, build a relationship together, and not ask for anything in return. This felt like my nature, so I didn’t think much of it at the time.

It wasn’t until I started grad school, and he began what I had already gone through: entry level at first professional job. I don’t know why I’m writing about it now, but it hurt he was doing it in a way that made it seem I had no idea what this was like because of my current shape, and my support was expected, not appreciated. M has never been too expressive, but any acknowledgement or encouragement while attending Gold’s gym after work each day in DTLB would have done so much for my self-esteem, our intimacy, his care and support, or just mutual respect I guess when the tables turned later. I still continue to compliment and support. But the thought is always there. What is it about me and what I do, the effort I put in, that seems just expected. Demanded. Not a privilege or sign of care, affection, and love. But “do your damn job”--but then anyone who does the same or a fraction of the same things has the right to guilt or shame me in not being supportive or caring enough. Why do I just exist to replace the role of M’s parents, perhaps, but my efforts aren’t even acknowledged to the same degree in how M views what his parents do. 

The shortcomings are what he’s most expressive about. Like I have a savings account like him, and just not paying  for things I literally cannot. I didn’t have my parents pay for college, a car, half my rent, bills, and little things in life M takes for granted. I pay for everything. And even having one or two things taken care of by parents allow young adults to live remarkably more comfortable lives that they’re blind to. They don’t understand the luxury of saving every paycheck because their parents pay for everything else. Or maybe it’s me, and my fault for having interests, and occasionally spending money on exploring interests to acculturate my life. Understanding myself, people, and culture better. Be a strong global citizen,

I don’t know. A lot of these claims are unfair to M. He avoids serious conversations, but most of this has come up. It’s just been treated with silence. When he caught my addiction last week, he kept repeating how hurt he was that I lied about it. He’s right, but I couldn’t shake the feeling... when would I ever been able to tell you and you wouldn’t act this way? Was there a time limit when you would have been supportive? Where you would have stayed and ensured I didn’t die during the most crucial period? Would there ever been a time that you didn’t just dismiss it as all my fault, so shame and guilt are the only things I’ll get from him while I need to seek treatment options on my own. That’s not how treatment works. In everything I’ve read, it says the same thing. This is a family problem. You need support. Loved ones. Care. Compassionate. Understanding. If these were never things that would have been offered, why is the main drive of pain from me lying? I did lie, so that’s valid. But it hurts because I don’t know how he truly feels, and sometimes it just goes through my head that this is the reason he’s been waiting for. I haven’t lied or cheated or hid other things. I’ve talked to other guys online, but came clean when caught. And that did hurt trust between us. But I never lied or hid something when we talked about it.

I write all of this because last night he texted me asking to meeting up this weekend to talk. I get excited because it means, after a week, maybe he wants to just sit and ask questions or express anger or frustrations or what’s on his mind. I send him my availability all weekend, with details. He takes hours to respond, but around 2am he says he’s free Saturday and Sunday. This is Friday night, and I see he’s at someone’s house--probably a party--that I didn’t know of. So maybe he’s drunk, but oddly he responded to my availability with just saying he’s free Sat and Sun--not setting a day or time to meet and talk. I don’t respond. It’s late and he says he’s out with friends since I mentioned I was even free that night back when I responded at 9pm when he first asked if I was free to meet and talk this weekend.

Today the morning goes by and I don’t hear from him, but he sent the last text. S at Noon I ask: “do you want me to pick a date and time then?” No answer.

A couple hours later I tell him I’m going to the gym later, and an NA meeting the next day (Sunday) if he wants to join me at either of those for an alternative meet up option--hopefully implying if he doesn’t want to just chat face-to-face, we can do something healthy that shows him I’m working hard in recovery. No response.

Both texts show read receipts. He read that right away, and Find My Friends shows he’s still just at his parents house. Been there all day, but ignoring my texts. Perhaps he was drunk when he texted me Friday night saying he wanted to meet up. I ran with it too quickly then because I miss him like crazy, worry about it, and just think about him and this situation constantly. Plus he bailed me out of jail for $5K of his own money this week on top of all of this, and that’s the last I saw him. 

As the day progresses, it starts to dawn on me. Most of his stuff is still at our apartment. We still live here in how it’s set up, and how he’s briefly used it this week. But he’s mostly stayed at his parents, which is understandable since he needs time to figure out how to make sense of this or what to think... which is how I believe he worded it when he left the day I started detox. I think he said “because he feels conflicted.”

But if his stuff is still here, and he knows my schedule, and I know his, he knows we’re both mostly free Saturdays and Sundays. So he could come home either day and sit down to talk when he sees I’m home, Granted, he hasn’t asked about how recovery or detox is going, or shown interest in caring about how I’m doing. He’s not there, and clearly I’m in a state where I agree in the sense that I worry about him most. He doesn’t express his feelings, and this is not something he can just avoid or pretend to go away. He needs to face it. But then I realize what “we need to meet up and talk” means in a relationship after a major issue happens, and one person moves out for a week, leaving the status open-ended, stating we need time apart, and then gets stuck paying $5k while trying to distance (on top of all the money I own him for rent and impound fees last summer). This talk usually means one thing, and I start to panic. Even more so because he’s dodging my texts to follow up about setting a meeting time and date. If M had the liquid courage to ask, but not is faced with following through sober, it would be like him to just ignore me. And he’s definitely ignoring me. Maybe because he just wants me to suffer or leave him alone. But my fear and anxiety has skyrocketed since last night. I’m consumed in fear with the idea that he’s wanting to meet up to end our relationship. I would understand why, but I realize, despite everything, I really really am in love with Michael. My addiction made me not a great boyfriend to look at or be around I’m sure, but I’m confident the person I’m returning to now that I’m free and in recovery is someone that he would benefit from growing with. Many also have expressed they think  this process will help M in the long run too, as things became static and this may needed to happen to reevaluate things and take us to the new heights we wanted and deserve.

M would have a hard time standing up for himself and dumping me, so when I was asking him if I should set the date and time, I starting thinking.. am I actually having to plan getting dumped for him? That’s not fair. This is the most emotional fragile state I’ve ever been in, and although he has every right to make that decision, and reasons to back it up, and not care about actually exercising real support that couples give each other, that’s fine. I would have to just respect the decision. I fucked up. And I knew who M was before we started dating. I just always think.. is he going to find someone else who doesn’t care about wanting basic needs and emotions and thoughts exchanged, shared, and supporting in a relationship? Abandon me, but that wouldn’t make these issues go away. Anyways, no one around him can offer me insight to his state of mind. So I fear the most devastating and hurtful decision and experience of my life is around the corner. Maybe even tomorrow. And despite our lease tomorrow until April, and the life we built together, M may just walk away from it all. Claiming he can’t trust me anymore as the main reason. And that trust is solely from hiding my addiction. Something I see now, given his reaction, why I did. 

Jonathon Van Ness, in a recent podcast “Getting Curious” with an addiction specialist at UCLA discusses shame in addiction, and defines it as this idea where “if you knew this one thing about me, you wouldn’t love me anymore.” This definition makes a lot of sense, as to why I could never tell M. If he knew, I would lose his love. And his love was holding me together, and giving me hope that someday I can fix this, overcome this, get help, get better, get fit, be the best version of myself again and beyond.

But now I just wait by my phone, wondering if I should send a 3rd text. The last one was around 3pm, when my day was freeing up for the rest of the weekend. So he could have arranged to meet at any time. Maybe inviting him to the gym or a meeting was too off-putting--like i WANTED that or something. But I just want to give options since just asking for a basic plan yielded no results. I don’t know if I should leave him alone. If he needs more time. If I push, I push him farther away. Or if ignoring makes me feel insecure and think I don’t care or think about him. That I just think about using again or getting clean, and he’s not longer important. This is farthest from the truth. All I want is to not fall asleep alone in bed anymore. I want M back by my side, cuddling me and us to sleep. But even then, I fear or believe that M doesn’t feel he can do that and feel safe or comfortable anymore, even though I think he wants this again too. But the trust that’s missing is something that will come in time. Through my actions. Through my recovery. And if only he were here to hold me, he would understand that my recovery means everything. Not for him, for me. But I am his, so a better me is a better him. I just want him to know he’s loved and cared for. I don’t want him to feel alone, upset, and sad. I want him to ask questions, even yell, shame, guilt. Do what he needs to do. Isolating himself alone in his room at his parents house is not going to help him heal, with or without me.

And for some reason, as I heal, I need to know who I affected most is healing. Because the truth is: I can’t stop thinking about killing myself since this happened. Not because I want to, but because I think it’s the one thing that would end his healing process, and make his life better. Even if it meant I would lose mine. So be it.

[libralita]

Title: The Diviners

Author: Libba Bray

Summary:

Do you believe there are ghosts and demons and Diviners among us?

Evie O'Neill has been exiled from her boring old hometown and shipped off to the bustling streets of New York City--and she is pos-i-tute-ly ecstatic. It's 1926, and New York is filled with speakeasies, Ziegfeld girls, and rakish pickpockets. The only catch is that she has to live with her uncle Will and his unhealthy obsession with the occult.

Evie worries he'll discover her darkest secret: a supernatural power that has only brought her trouble so far. But when the police find a murdered girl branded with a cryptic symbol and Will is called to the scene, Evie realizes her gift could help catch a serial killer.

As Evie jumps headlong into a dance with a murderer, other stories unfurl in the city that never sleeps. And unknown to all, something dark and evil has awakened....

Rating: ★★★★★

Review:

This was a really enjoyable book. It was so post-twilight/early twenty-tens so it was a real nostalgia trip. Speaking of blasts from the pasts, the 1920s setting really felt alive. I could tell that Bray put a lot of effort into creating a realistic setting. Silly things like the slang that always made me laugh. To some really heavy shit.

I’ve seen some reviews saying that they didn’t like the main character Evie and personally I thought she was a pretty decent Main Character. She did some stupid thing but honestly I’ve seen much worse.

The one problem I did have for this book is how convenient everything is. Like everyone that Evie meets just happens to be a Diviner or has something to do with it. Or has something to do with the murder case. Like at points I just wanted Small World to start playing.

Apparently this book is spooky!

“[But] she’s heard he has a habit of inviting girls into his rumble seat for a petting party.”—Page 3

What an interesting sentence.

“Finally, there is movement on the board. ‘I…will…teach…you…fear,’ the hostess reads aloud.”—Page 4

Oh, really?

“Harold Brodie is a louse and a lothario who cheats at cards and has a different girl in his rumble seat every week. That coupe of his is a pos-i-tute-ly a petting palace. And he’s a terrible kisser to boot.”—Page 12

This old-timey speak is just the best.

“[A] distant shore upon which I hope to land.”—Page 13

1920’s sex talk is hilarious.

“Sister Benito Mussolini Facisti?”—Page 33

Okay, I Googled it and apparently 20 dollars is $269.76 in today’s money. So Evie basically just flashed 250 bucks. No wonder Sam stole it. Also $10 is about $134.88.

Jericho is cute. I also love that name.

So, Evie’s not going to tell her Uncle Will that she’s probably a Diviner.

All spoopy books must have creepy old ladies.

Poor Ruta.

“Isaiah sat very still, staring into the dark. ‘I am the dragon. The beast of old,’ he said.”—Page 82

Oh shit!

They’re putting $40 bucks on her doing her hair? Damn…

The cat’s particulars…interesting.

So, is everyone a Diviner?

“Darling girl, I’d be your fool, if I could only pass this stool, oh the curse of CON-STI-PAAA-TION!”—Page 145

This book is weird.

You can tell that this is a post-twilight/Shadowhunters era book because every male character clearly wants bone the female protagonist.

“In the museum’s musty lavatory, Sam washed his hands and left the tap running. Whistling, he sat on the cracked title floor and watched the shadow of Evie’s feet under the slit of the door as she paced. She’d get bored eventually. He opened Jericho’s wallet, which he had lifted while the blond giant was occupied in the stacks.”—Page 149

Such a dick.

“Soloman’s Comet. An event of heavenly significance.”—Page 154

I’m sure this has nothing to do with anything.

“She is the elephant’s eyebrows,”—Page 155

My god, sometimes I can’t take this book seriously.

A golden alter? Sacrifices to spirits? This show is a bit on the nose.

“The duck’s quake”, this is so weird.

“Isaiah stared straight ahead. ‘Anoint thy flesh and prepare ye the walls of your houses. The Lord will brook no weakness in his chosen.’ ‘Ice Man?’ ‘And the sixth offering shall be an offering of obedience.’”—Page 165

You are one creepy kid.

“Diviners.”—Page 166

Can’t be good.

So has Naughty John corrupted Isaiah?

“I once helped bring charges against the Grand Dragon of the Klan out there. I’m known to them.”—Page 181

Wait, Naughty John has referred to himself as the dragon. So is this like some evil Klanman spirit?

“Jericho cleared his throat. ‘Would you like to take first shift, or shall I?’ he asked, as if at any moment they’d be flooded with visitors. ‘Where’s Sam?’ Evie asked. ‘He went to call a friend about a motorcar.’ ‘I’ll bet he did,’ Evie scoffed. ‘I could take first shift, if you like,’ Jericho offered. ‘No, I will,’”—Page 183

Man, Jericho is crushing on Evie hard.

So Liberty’s brother built a mansion and it turns out to be Evie’s uncle’s museum. SMALL WORLD!

“‘What was started long ago will now be finished when the fire burns in the sky,’ he said. Repent, for the Beast is come.’”—Page 203

Weird.

“The Sacrifice of the Faithful. The Tribute of the ten Servants of the Master. The Pale Horseman Riding Death Before the Stars. The Death of the Virgin. The Harlot Adorned and Cast upon the Sea. The Sacrifice of the Idle Son. The Turning Out of the Deceitful Brethren from the Temple of Solomon. The Veneration of the Angelic Herald. The Destruction of the Golden Idol.  The Lamentation of the Widow. The Marriage of the Beast and the Woman Clothed in the Sun.”—Pages 211-212

These are all the things to come signaling the end is neigh. If I had to guess, the last one is going to be Evie.

“‘You said that the Brethren is a vanished cult. What happened to them?’ ‘The entire sect burned to death in 1848.’”—Page 213

The first thing to happen was “The Sacrifice of the Faithful.”

Oh, well how convenient that the page we need is missing.

“Please, can you help? They took my sister from the factory.”—Page 223

Next victim?

“[Why] start with the fifth offering? It doesn’t make sense.”—Page 227

They happened hundreds of years ago. The offering, dammit. Please don’t take the entire book to figure this out.

“He thought about going to the Hotsy Totsy or the Tomb of the Fallen Angels”—Page 236

There’s your tomb.

“It’s very nice of your uncle to take you girls to a poetry reading. It’s important to tend to your education rather than fritter away time in bourgeois, immoral pastimes such as dancing in nightclubs.”—Page 249

I think poetry readings are pretty bourgeois.

“One of his bullets passed through the book of poetry in Memphis’s hand. Memphis stuck his finger through the hole. ‘That was a library book,’ he said, gasping.”—Page 268

Me.

“His words were a choke whisper: ‘Oh, my son, my son. What have you done?’”—Page 275

Chills.

Oh, I’m sure that Evie will be sent back to Ohio. I guess it’ll be Mabel’s story.

“Evie sat forward, hopeful. ‘It was just like sitting at the picture show, but a picture show where the projector light isn’t terribly strong. It was only a moment. I could see Mother sitting at her dressing table, and I could feel what she had been feeling when she’d worn the brooch.’ ‘What was that?’ Evie looked him in the eyes. ‘She wished I’d been the one to die instead of James.’”—Page 294

Oh shit.

“Are there others like me?”—Page 295

Everyone is this damn book.

Looks like Gabe is the Angelic Herald.

So there’s some agency that’s collecting Diviners. Of course, there always is.

“Theta let out the breath she’d been holding.”—Page 323

This is an early 2010s book!

I’m suddenly very grateful for Google. All hail our evil overlord.

Memphis, don’t you fucking leave! Ugh…

Poor Jericho has a giant crush on Evie and he’s just completely ignored by her.

“Jericho came to sit beside her. ‘Murnau’s Faust is playing at the Palace.’ ‘Swell,’ Evie said, still turning things over in her mind. ‘I was just wondering if you might—’ there was a knock at the door. ‘I’ll go,’ Evie said, sighing. ‘Probably another reporter.’ ‘Wanted to go with me,’ Jericho finished as he watched Evie walk away.”—Page 361

Poor Jericho…

“‘This is happening pretty fast, isn’t it?’ Memphis said. He could not remember a time when he didn’t know Theta, a time when she didn’t occupy his thoughts and dreams.”—Page 370

Uh, guys, you’ve seen each other like 3 times.

“Come, come play with us….”—Page 372

That’s some Shining shit.

And Gabe is dead.

And Mabel and Evie are friends again.

“I believe this may be the lair of the Pentacle Killer.”—Page 380

Which is why we’re going in it.

“Theta was right to nickname you Evil. I believe you need the services of Sigmund Freud. He’s the only person who could possibly understand the workings of your very healthy mind.”—Page 380

Something about penises?

“But Evie’s attention was drawn to a door slowly creaking open at the far end of the corridor behind her.”—Page 385

Nopenopenopenopenopenope! N-O-P-E NOPE! DO NOT GO IN THAT ROOM EVIE.

This diary is super interesting. I wonder if Hobbes was always supernatural.

I wonder if we’ll see Ida Knowles’s spirit.

Gabe’s death is really sad.

“Memphis turned to her, his face gone hard. ‘I want to help you find Gabe’s killer.’”—Page 399

Yay, they’re working together! Will Fitzgerald’s School for Gifted Youngsters is being realized!

How can Will keep her safe?

“Evie thought of the small patch of cloth stuck on the laundry chute. It was so small—too small to be of note. Wasn’t it?”—Page 410

UGHHH!

Theta is getting an abortion. Well, that just got heavy.

“‘Talking to Gabriel.’ Isaiah’s teeth chattered. His eyes had the fixed, unseeing quality of a trance. ‘Memphis, brother,’ Isaiah whispered. ‘The storm is coming…the storm is coming…’”—Page 429

The everstorm? No but oh shit, I’m really concerned about Isaiah.

Did Theta or did Hobbes take the skin? Also is it that annoying girl?

Oh shit, Mary White is alive!

“‘You want to know about my John,’ she said in a voice weak with labored breathing.”—Page 441

And I wish she wasn’t.

Grave robbing time!

“I see you,”—Page 454

NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE

HE’S IN THE MUSEUM FUCK!!

…sweet pickles…?

They’re looking for Diviners. “Fitter Families For Future Firesides”.

“Making America strong through the science of eugenics.”—Page 469

Oh fuck. Wait, they were totally looking for Diviners. So do people who believed in eugenics are also in on this? I guess that makes sense since the Klan also has something to do with the Beast.

That pendant is going to be gone.

Oh, Mary is going to be the next victim, good luck.

Jericho is a cyborg!

Sometimes this story just gets really freaking dark.

Hobbes left Ruta’s shoe buckle in the museum. Dammit!

“No. We stay together.”—Page 525

Jericho Jones wins the prize for being the most intelligent YA character ever.

“‘I’ll hate you forever,’ she whispered, losing the battle against the tears. ‘I know,’ Will said softly.”—Page 553

Ow, that hit me hard.

I…don’t know if showing your supernatural abilities to reports is wisest idea.

I’ve never trusted Blind Bill….

WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THAT CAT???

Here’s hoping my ship keeps sailing.

[mindriots]

Religion

When it comes to bullshit, big-time, major league bullshit, you have to stand in awe of the all-time champion of false promises and exaggerated claims, religion. No contest. No contest. Religion. Religion easily has the greatest bullshit story ever told. Think about it. Religion has actually convinced people that there's an invisible man living in the sky who watches everything you do, every minute of every day. And the invisible man has a special list of ten things he does not want you to do. And if you do any of these ten things, he has a special place, full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish, where he will send you to live and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry forever and ever 'til the end of time!   But He loves you. He loves you, and He needs money! He always needs money! He's all-powerful, all-perfect, all-knowing, and all-wise, somehow just can't handle money! Religion takes in billions of dollars, they pay no taxes, and they always need a little more. Now, you talk about a good bullshit story. Holy Shit!   But I want you to know something, this is sincere, I want you to know, when it comes to believing in God, I really tried. I really, really tried. I tried to believe that there is a God, who created each of us in His own image and likeness, loves us very much, and keeps a close eye on things. I really tried to believe that, but I gotta tell you, the longer you live, the more you look around, the more you realize, something is fucked up.   Something is wrong here. War, disease, death, destruction, hunger, filth, poverty, torture, crime, corruption, and the Ice Capades. Something is definitely wrong. This is not good work. If this is the best God can do, I am not impressed. Results like these do not belong on the résumé of a Supreme Being. This is the kind of shit you'd expect from an office temp with a bad attitude. And just between you and me, in any decently-run universe, this guy would've been out on his all-powerful ass a long time ago. And by the way, I say "this guy", because I firmly believe, looking at these results, that if there is a God, it has to be a man.   No woman could or would ever fuck things up like this. So, if there is a God, I think most reasonable people might agree that he's at least incompetent, and maybe, just maybe, doesn't give a shit. Doesn't give a shit, which I admire in a person, and which would explain a lot of these bad results.   So rather than be just another mindless religious robot, mindlessly and aimlessly and blindly believing that all of this is in the hands of some spooky incompetent father figure who doesn't give a shit, I decided to look around for something else to worship. Something I could really count on.   And immediately, I thought of the sun. Happened like that. Overnight I became a sun-worshipper. Well, not overnight, you can't see the sun at night. But first thing the next morning, I became a sun-worshipper. Several reasons. First of all, I can see the sun, okay? Unlike some other gods I could mention, I can actually see the sun. I'm big on that. If I can see something, I don't know, it kind of helps the credibility along, you know? So everyday I can see the sun, as it gives me everything I need; heat, light, food, flowers in the park, reflections on the lake, an occasional skin cancer, but hey. At least there are no crucifixions, and we're not setting people on fire simply because they don't agree with us.   Sun worship is fairly simple. There's no mystery, no miracles, no pageantry, no one asks for money, there are no songs to learn, and we don't have a special building where we all gather once a week to compare clothing. And the best thing about the sun, it never tells me I'm unworthy. Doesn't tell me I'm a bad person who needs to be saved. Hasn't said an unkind word. Treats me fine. So, I worship the sun. But, I don't pray to the sun. Know why? I wouldn't presume on our friendship. It's not polite.   I've often thought people treat God rather rudely, don't you? Asking trillions and trillions of prayers every day. Asking and pleading and begging for favors. Do this, gimme that, I need a new car, I want a better job. And most of this praying takes place on Sunday His day off. It's not nice. And it's no way to treat a friend.   But people do pray, and they pray for a lot of different things, you know, your sister needs an operation on her crotch, your brother was arrested for defecating in a mall. But most of all, you'd really like to fuck that hot little redhead down at the convenience store. You know, the one with the eyepatch and the clubfoot? Can you pray for that? I think you'd have to. And I say, fine. Pray for anything you want. Pray for anything, but what about the Divine Plan?   Remember that? The Divine Plan. Long time ago, God made a Divine Plan. Gave it a lot of thought, decided it was a good plan, put it into practice. And for billions and billions of years, the Divine Plan has been doing just fine. Now, you come along, and pray for something. Well suppose the thing you want isn't in God's Divine Plan? What do you want Him to do? Change His plan? Just for you? Doesn't it seem a little arrogant? It's a Divine Plan. What's the use of being God if every run-down shmuck with a two-dollar prayerbook can come along and fuck up Your Plan?   And here's something else, another problem you might have: Suppose your prayers aren't answered. What do you say? "Well, it's God's will." "Thy Will Be Done." Fine, but if it's God's will, and He's going to do what He wants to anyway, why the fuck bother praying in the first place? Seems like a big waste of time to me! Couldn't you just skip the praying part and go right to His Will? It's all very confusing.   So to get around a lot of this, I decided to worship the sun. But, as I said, I don't pray to the sun. You know who I pray to? Joe Pesci. Two reasons: First of all, I think he's a good actor, okay? To me, that counts. Second, he looks like a guy who can get things done. Joe Pesci doesn't fuck around. In fact, Joe Pesci came through on a couple of things that God was having trouble with.   For years I asked God to do something about my noisy neighbor with the barking dog, Joe Pesci straightened that cocksucker out with one visit. It's amazing what you can accomplish with a simple baseball bat.   So I've been praying to Joe for about a year now. And I noticed something. I noticed that all the prayers I used to offer to God, and all the prayers I now offer to Joe Pesci, are being answered at about the same 50% rate. Half the time I get what I want, half the time I don't. Same as God, 50-50. Same as the four-leaf clover and the horseshoe, the wishing well and the rabbit's foot, same as the Mojo Man, same as the Voodoo Lady who tells you your fortune by squeezing the goat's testicles, it's all the same: 50-50. So just pick your superstition, sit back, make a wish, and enjoy yourself.   And for those of you who look to The Bible for moral lessons and literary qualities, I might suggest a couple of other stories for you. You might want to look at the Three Little Pigs, that's a good one. Has a nice happy ending, I'm sure you'll like that. Then there's Little Red Riding Hood, although it does have that X-rated part where the Big Bad Wolf actually eats the grandmother. Which I didn't care for, by the way. And finally, I've always drawn a great deal of moral comfort from Humpty Dumpty. The part I like the best? "All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty Dumpty back together again." That's because there is no Humpty Dumpty, and there is no God. None, not one, no God, never was.   In fact, I'm gonna put it this way. If there is a God, may he strike this audience dead! See? Nothing happened. Nothing happened? Everybody's okay? All right, tell you what, I'll raise the stakes a little bit. If there is a God, may he strike me dead. See? Nothing happened, oh, wait, I've got a little cramp in my leg. And my balls hurt. Plus, I'm blind. I'm blind, oh, now I'm okay again, must have been Joe Pesci, huh? God Bless Joe Pesci. Thank you all very much. Joe Bless You!     http://www.objectivethought.com/atheism/carlin.html

[vietthaimeco]

2020 Toyota Supra First Drive: Automotive Husbandry

There was a time when Mama and Papa Toyota gave birth to strong, athletic sports cars, starting with the suave 2000GT, sent to boarding school in Coventry and raced by Carroll Shelby. Through the years the family grew to include lithe Celicas, stalwart Supras, even a scrappy rear-drive Corolla GT-S or two. Then something happened, and Mama Toyota found herself unable to conceive sports cars. An impatient Papa Toyota summoned his Fuji concubine, Subaru-san, who gave birth to identical twins—one of which he graciously allowed her to keep. Mama Toyota was furious and forbade Papa Toyota from ever showering his son, 86, with any affection or horsepower. To woo back his betrothed, who desperately wished to birth another great sports car, Papa Toyota hatched a plan to artificially inseminate an auspicious European egg for Mama Toyota to gestate. She’s just given birth, and now the world must determine how this half-breed stacks up against its all-Toyota siblings.

We created this origin-story myth for the joint development of the A90-generation Supra out of frustration when it proved impossible to pin down exactly what roles Toyota and BMW played in the initial design of this new car. The inline-six turbo is obviously all BMW’s—it served as the inspiration for this hook-up in the first place. (“Thy Supras Shall Have I-6 Engines” was chiseled as the forgotten 11th commandment.) Most invisible parts are shared and apparently developed by BMW, if the roundel stickers, engravings, and casting marks are to be believed. The bodywork and the tuning of every tunable element on the Supra was handled by Toyota. We’re told the joint-venture team aimed squarely at Porsche’s 718 range, with BMW targeting the Boxster; Toyota the Cayman.

As for the B58B30M1 engine, although its output roughly equates to that of the European-market BMW Z4 sibling, it does not in fact employ a particle filter in U.S. applications. This begs the question, why not uncork the extra horsepower BMW gets from its filterless U.S. application (tagged B58B30M0)? Chief engineer Tetsuya Tada answers by claiming that balancing the car’s engine and chassis at the Nürburgring led to the 335 hp/365 lb-ft rating. But we find it hard to believe that in this fanboy, numbers-obsessed market segment his team chose to remove 47 horsepower instead of fortifying the chassis to cope with 382 hp. Let’s hope that instead the strategy is to start out conservative and bring a steady stream of higher-output special editions in the years to come.

But let’s return to the essential question at hand: Is this bicontinental cross-breed a “real” Supra?

The striking design may not appeal to everyone, but at least it doesn’t look at all like any BMW and several design cues evince Toyota sports-car DNA: the hatch bustle shape and elements of the headlamp design hark to the previous (A80) Supra, and the side-window shape is pure 2000GT. The proportions are certainly fresh. It’s shorter in length and wider than any of its predecessors, with the cabin set well back behind the requisite long hood. It’s also impressive that the team managed to generate the aero forces required to guarantee stability at the car’s 155-mph-limited top speed with underbody features and the duckbill shape of the hatch surface, leaving the bodywork refreshingly devoid of external wings, spoilers, skirts, and splitters.

Inside, the 2020 Supra’s overall dash, door panel, and seat designs are unlike the Z4’s, but there’s no mistaking all the BMW switchgear—especially the entire iDrive system, complete with all BMW fonts (changing them would have reduced Tada’s budget for making the car lighter and quicker). Whatever you think of the appearance, the functionality of this interior is hard to fault. All controls are intuitive and within easy reach (Consumer Reports just rated iDrive second to Tesla among automotive user interfaces). The 14-way power seats are quite comfortable and supportive, with side wings that can adjust to hug you tight on a track, then relax for the drive home. And the whole driver’s side of the center console area is padded for taller drivers to brace their right knee against. Nice.

I drew the assignment to test out the new Supra in part because I’m old enough (just) to have been around for the 1993 A80 Supra’s launch. and I drove the 2000GT for MotorTrend Classic in 2005. Let me state right here that the 2020 Supra comes off as less exotic than either of those two. That’s OK. Evolving the A80 Supra Turbo, accounting for inflation, would have produced a low-volume 500-ish-hp car priced in the $75,000–$85,000 range, and the 2000GT’s successor was arguably the Lexus LFA.

That’s not to say that the new Supra doesn’t feel special. All new two-seat coupes are rare and wonderful these days, and this one certainly outperforms all its predecessors. Our database confirms that if the factory-estimated 0–60 time of 4.1 seconds holds up, this new Supra will outperform all previous production Toyotas (a supercharged 2008 Tundra TRD and a 1997 Supra Turbo rank as the quickest we’ve tested at 4.4 and 5.1 seconds to 60 mph, respectively).

There’s a launch-control feature to aid in achieving that number, and the standard ZF 8HP eight-speed automatic fires off lightning-quick shifts along the way. Engage Sport mode, and the faultless shift programming preselects the right gear for every corner. This mode also opens an exhaust flap, alters the audio-system engine-note enhancer, and orders up a delightful snap-crackle-pop on overrun courtesy of gloriously wasteful fuel injection during the exhaust stroke (fun fact: This is said to be the only Toyota designed with no fuel-economy target).

Supras are not drag-strip cars. They also need to be able to handle the corners, and toward that end the joint team built a strong foundation—the Supra’s torsional rigidity reportedly exceeds that of the Lexus LFA (not to mention the open Z4). The front strut suspension emulates the ‘super strut’ design Toyota launched on its AE92 Corolla in the late-1980s, featuring two separate ball-jointed lower links for reduced camber change and improved steering feel. To assist with chassis tuning, Mr. Tada once again engaged the services of Dutch Nürburgring veteran racer Herwig Daenens, who assisted with the Toyota 86 (née Scion FR-S).

Their goal was to tune for neutral handling with no surprises. “With a snappy car, the customer will experience it once and never drive it hard again,” Daenens explains as he laps Summit Point Motorsports Park outside Washington, D.C. His first hot lap strings together all the tight corners with laser precision and minimal steering heroics. He then gives me a Formula Drift lap or two, with no giant hand-brakes or diff-locks, rolling on the stock Michelin Pilot Super Sport tires inflated to placard specs (38 psi all around, cold). Speaking of differential locks, the Supra’s is infinitely variable and tuned to reduce corner-entry understeer and to maximize corner-exit traction.

When it’s my turn to duck my helmet under the low window opening and buckle in, I am struck by the intimacy of the car and cockpit. It feels as though I’m positioned near the centers of gravity and rotation, making it feel like this little world indeed revolves around me. One nit to pick—the large driver’s side-view mirror obscures the view of an upcoming apex worse than some, and the tallest drivers may be chagrinned to find the seatback tilting forward toward the rear of the seat track’s travel.

We’re instructed not to switch stability control completely off, to trail-brake into the turns, and to roll judiciously onto the throttle. Indeed, all those driving-school techniques provoke textbook responses in the Supra sans drama or surprises. The steering is extremely precise and nicely weighted, though it lacks the intimate communication of the Cayman Toyota is gunning for. Stability intervention is pleasantly surreptitious. And the super-strong Brembo brakes survive lap after lap after lap without fade, even as we all learn to press deeper into each of the closely spaced corners. Then during a later afternoon session, when we’ve probably used up 280 of the tires’ 300 tread-life rating, I even manage to string together a couple of very nice, controllable corner-to-corner drifts. I emerge, sweaty but smiling.

Once the red mist subsides and we take to the country lanes surrounding Summit Point, the car’s Sunday-drive demeanor proves equally delightful. The 12-speaker 500-watt JBL system cranks out the jams, the ride quality in Sport mode is sufficiently compliant to encourage leaving the car in this ‘fun-exhaust’ mode, and when zipping through a series of S-bends with your phone on the Qi wireless charger, a cover and sufficient fencing keep it from flying into the passenger footwell.

So is this miracle of automotive husbandry worthy of the Supra name? Heck, yeah. It reinvents the concept in a guise that make sense for today’s world, and it’s offered at a price ($50,920 to start, $57,375 fully loaded) that’s a relative bargain when measured against both its predecessor and its Porsche competitor ($58,150, $70,640 similarly equipped to the Launch Edition model). If it’s not precisely what you had in mind, the aftermarket is gearing up to help you fix that.

Want more Supra? Check these out:

8 Things We Learned About the 2020 Toyota Supra While It Was on a Lift

2020 Toyota Supra: The Aftermarket’s Take

2020 Toyota Supra: Here’s Something You Probably Didn’t Know About its Logo

Supra Returns! The Inside Story on the 2020 Toyota Supra’s Comeback

2020 Toyota Supra Design: From FT-1 Concept to Production

Toyota Supra History: Looking Back at Toyota’s Sports Car

Why Toyota’s Supra-Z4 Partnership With BMW Makes Sense

2020 Toyota Supra BASE PRICE $50,920 VEHICLE LAYOUT Front-engine, RWD, 2-pass, 2-door hatchback ENGINE 3.0L/335-hp/365-lb-ft turbocharged DOHC 24-valve I-6 TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic CURB WEIGHT 3,400 lb (mfr) WHEELBASE 97.2 in LENGTH X WIDTH X HEIGHT 172.5 x 73.0 x 50.9 in 0-60 MPH 4.1 sec (mfr est) EPA CITY/HWY/COMB FUEL ECON 24/31/26 mpg ENERGY CONSUMPTION, CITY/HWY 140/109 kW-hrs/100 miles CO2 EMISSIONS, COMB 0.79 lb/mile ON SALE IN U.S. July 2019

The post 2020 Toyota Supra First Drive: Automotive Husbandry appeared first on Motortrend.

source https://www.motortrend.com/cars/toyota/supra/2020/2020-toyota-supra-first-drive-review/

[xottzot]

2017-4(APR)-29-Saturday. in despair

2017-4(APR)-29-Saturday. in despair

I've taken up smoking.

It's the healthy responsible thing to do for everyone, especially children and babies included. And any non-smokers are not only encouraged to smoke, they are forced to smoke no matter what. It's entirely legal. It's been entirely decided. So has thieving.

There's no need to remain alive for anything.

What actually is happening is that EVERY morning, I awake to this hovel and outside AND INSIDE being filled with bushfire smoke.

Forget about being cautious about fires in Australia because the authorities here are constantly setting fire and burning vast tracts of land and filling the air that you breath with choking smoke. And if that's not bad enough, it makes other people dd to it all by lighting and burnng their own fires. And they do it also by burning literally rubbish in their backyards, plastic...any foul thing you can think of they set fire to and make terrible acrid smoke which joins in with the other smoke. If it doesn't want to burn, or is not burning quick enough to their liking, then throw petrol on it and force it to burn......

My bed smells of smoke. My clothes smell like smoke. Sam & Max their coats smell like smoke. Often they sneeze because of the smoke. Just as I sneeze too from the smoke. I wake up every day to massive headaches. Headaches that doctors are stumped by and shake their heads at and keep trying evermore 'new' ineffectual means to control. And they look at me and think I'm a liar. Which I have never been and are not. I have become a rarity because I speak the truth about things.

In seasons wet or dry, (it is still bone dry), there's a huge pall of smoke outside every morning now, and of course it creeps into this hovel and fills it up so that it stays in this hovel all day. There is no wind. All the conditions they state which are perfect to set fire to everything. The same conditions that make it impossible for the stench of burning rubbish to blow away. And so this hovel fills with that stench.

It creates terrible headaches. And so I am forced to take painkillers for that. And whenever I go to the doctors to get painkiller prescriptions renewed, the doctors all ask, "Do you smoke?", and I always answer truthfully, "No, I don't smoke.", and they always reply, "Good, good. You don't want to be doing that."

But I AM smoking, and smoking heavily just by being alive. Just by breathing in this stench as I sleep literally, and whenever I am awake.

My eyes are stinging, my throat is burning.

And whenever someone in the public dares to ever complain about the smoke, authorities every time get vicious at them and declare, 'We MUST burn off vast tractcs of land to prevent vast tracts of land burning up when bushfires happen.'

In the NEWS, there's stories to divert your attention away from the fact of fires and terrible smoke where I am.....such as 'oh we discovered some flowers that look like Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito! We'e going to name them in their honour!"

Did the named duo discover them? - Nope. - Somobody simply decided the plants 'look' like the two people. - Yes really, it's actual NEWS.

And one picture had the backgrund of a burnt-out black area devoid of all life except for the plants. (they changed the photo soon enough)

West Australian authorities have, from whatever reasons in past history, caused houses, infrastructure, and even entire towns to be burned down in their fervent zeal to burn all the bush around.....to stop it from being burned down.

'It's better to burn down under our 'control', rather that it to be burn uncontrollably and for peoples lives to put at risk.', they constantly intone and is their mantra.

And then they threaten you by saying, "You wouldn't want your house to burn up in a fire would you!?", and you of course correctly answer, "No.", and thy retort, "See!? So go away and shut the hell up and let us do what we want."

Any illness or ailments you have are exacerbated by smoke, and the smoke of neighbours getting into the bandwagon and burning foul rubbish they don't want to be dicovered putting into rubbish bins. And so they add to the burnnig and foul stench.

And then there are the aboriginal kids, young school-aged kids that should be in classrooms but never are, and they openly just walk around these streets of this hellhole smoking cigarettes and anything else they can scavenge from off the road and footpaths. And if they can't find any, they steal them. I see them all the time now about this hellhole. They have already seen they can do anyhing they like, and so they constantly keep trying more and more.

And they then go onto booze. Alcohol of any means, of any type they can get their hands on. Any type they can steal.

And the 'latest' fad that has been around this helhole for many years is to wander around (just like all the aboriginals do) with a plastic softdrink bottle. But whether the bottle ever contain softdrink or water can never be determined because who's going to be checking for that? (I've had to clean up rubbish from this hellhole, even my own yard, and the stench of booze that's been in it the bottles is overpowering and sickening and makes me want to vomit everytime.)

And the filthy creatures they are, they throw the empty bottles anywhere, ANYWHERE they want, they throw them into innocent peoples yards. They literally hurl them into peoples yards in this hellhole.

The newest residents next door to the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD had their front yard being the recipient of plastic bottles from the very first days they had arrived to live there. And still more keep appearing on and in their yard no matter how many they pick up and put into their rubbish bins.

Long ago it used to glass bottles. But glass bottles could be collected and handed in for money (coins), and the more that was collected, the more money could be made. Authorities got rid of all that. Now there is nothing like that anymore. - Now you are supposd to just collect all that glass refuse and hand it over for it to be recycled but you are not paid for it. The same goes for all rubbish.

Sometimes the aboriginals will scavenge up empty plastic bottles from the roads and yards of others, not to keep things nice and clean or teh environment (which they supposedly hold so dear) but because they want to use the bottles themselves, whether it's to re-fill thwm with booze they can (and do) openly drink in the streets or to drink from anywhere else. And if there's softdrink in it they can mix it with strong alcohol. And kids drink that too.

The 'stolen generation', a term once used to describe an official policy decades ago whereby 'at risk' children were snatched by authorities and then foisted upon foster parents is once again active. It actually never went away. And once more its making NEWS. And the aboriginals are very upset by it all.

They are demanding that authorities do EVERYTHING the aboriginals want, even stating that it is their rights to drink heavily and to smoke heavily. They state that that is legal. They try to associate 'traditional' values to filthy habits of self-destruction. And the authorities are getting more and more compliant. There are inumerable politicans and officials who couldn't care lss about anything or anyone, and those values they insist upon everyone else whilst at the same time lying about being so 'caring' about it all.

Politicans raise money by having everything taxed, even plastic bottles. Politicians hate somebody else making money when instead they could have it to themsleves, hence taxes upon everything, that most people try to asume don't exist, or they'll state they are so small, so why should it matter? -- And that's also why the used glass bottle collector men are no longer existing. All that glass just goes into rubbish bins (or is smashed all about) so that can go off elsewhere and make somebody else money.

South Australia was (and I don't know if it still is), the last place in Australia to have the 'returns policy' in effect so that people could get money from bottle returns. It kept strests clear of broken glass, the money was used by anyone on eremely low incoomes to grovel about and have a chance to earn some money, just like it did all across Ausralia. And which used to be worldwide. This was why there was the usual 'deposit' on a drink bottle was always being stated, often imprinted on the bottle or can itself. Do you even rememeber that? Nobody does anymore in this hellhole. It doesnt exist.

There often would be NEWS items of social groups, charities, small clubs, who had ben collecting bottles and cans and proudly 'making money',and they would be using that money to fund things of imoprtance, including public importance. -- Not anymore. All that stopped.

Now countless worthy organisations are always fincially fading away, being abuptly cut off, told they had to go because they coudl not be financed, or could be afforded. And there is always the bullshit propaganda promises of ''We're goibg to beging start of 'X' that we (hope) will be able to make 'X' organisation more sustainable and actually will make it better and grow to further the good work that 'X' has been doing....blah blah blah'

But those in power had long ago decided they wanted to rort every sytem they could to detroy it and pocket whetver money they could out of it all which at the same time made everything worse, NOT better. -- And that is how everything is today, and is accepted as being 'normal' and 'expected'. - Constant 'experiments' start, and fail, then eventually come back again and again with the the same failed results and always the same excuses and promises.

The criminals revel in such a foetid environment. And that engenders all the shitheads to do likewise.

And the aboriginals who have always been criminal they remain criminal, and they grow worse, whilst all and everyone else who is honest and caring suffers.

And so you have children and small ones, becoming smoking adicts, and alcohol addicts, and crime is high and ever rising and escalating, and it all feeds in on itself.

And as always, as soon any authorities then tries to reign in control, they fail.

Apparently now Australia is being a victim of the drug 'meth'. And as always, those meth addicts ARE the ones causing so much trouble and turmoil along with everything else.

And there is the usual bullshit methodology employed, 'think of the little ones!', and so the authoritoes are once more 'taking' children away from families. But those childen are already long-gone, addicts themselves anor criminals.

It's been stated in the NEWS that those children are the babies of addicts, and affected by alcohol even before they are born and afterwards because of their mothers who are addicts. The fathers are always semingly non-existent in such affairs. But they are born from addicted 'parents', grow up in an environment of addicted 'parents' and relations, and they adopt criminal ways to continue it all and on and on it goes.

And once more, as always, there are the 'grandparents' who are supposedly so pure and immune from it all and are so many times the unofficial foster parents of kids. It's those foster parents can also be addicts of everything, but they may not even be related. And whomever adopts the children is then brought down by the insane actions of the feral children who are also addicts in their own rights.

And if you ARE innocent and dare to complain about any crime, YOU are then pounced upon by authorities and Police and all manner of associate groups who blame YOU for their woes in trying to deal with anything.

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I am feeling VERY cold. I was very cold IN bed. I will not get warm all today.

Perhaps I should just light a fire and houehold rubbish rather than put it into a rubbish bin? And maybe I should just burn the plastic rubbish bin itself and add to all the foetid smoke in the air? Why not? Everyone else is doing it.

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Despair.

Utter despair.

P@8:18am--29-April-2017---I love you Fliss and want to be with you.

[riverdamien]

Blessed Are the Wierd=A Book Review

BLESSED ARE THE WEIRD BY JACOB NORDBY A Book Review "The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally sensitive. To him. .a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy , a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the over powering necessity to create, create, create--so that without creating music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating." Pearl S. Buck ------------------------------------------------------------ Yesterday I came to a point where I had to shut every thing down--two of my Marin friends called to "hang out", there way of asking for a ride home from the Haight, which normally I would give them in a minute, and I said "no"; another friend wanted to go to a movie, and I said "no"; and so I turned my phone off. The night before I had made a house call to see a friend who had just had surgery and then went to the Haight to see a person who was suicidal, and yet another was at my door later crying, plus outreach in the rain. I was spent. And while I was exhausted, I was filled with much joy, because this is what fulfills me, being present to another. This is never work for me. Where I truly become exhausted, even depleted, is from my own inner struggle with being myself to people at large. Some see me as a "heretic", others as "different", and most as just "weird". And I say you are right, absolutely correct, I own it. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin Jesuit priest, philosopher, mystic, "heretic", and a saint in a thousand years wrote: "Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then for a second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire." His words, echo the words of Jesus: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all of thy soul, thy mind, and thy strength, and thy neighbor as thy self," and Jesus lived this out to his death. Love is not a romantic word it is a harsh word of compassion and care for people regardless of who they are or what they do. Because each person has in them the spark of the living God. For me that means walking with people regardless of what they do or have done: murder, sex offenses, stealing, taking abuse without giving it back, forgiving when hurt, facing the monsters within myself, and outside of myself--with holding my judgment and letting God be the judge (for I judge harshly, like we all do, that is why I leave that to God). It means I can say that every person I encounter is "nice" for in each person there is "good". I have seen the good in the people who have stabbed me, shot at me, say horrible things to my face, have murdered and hurt people, and in emails of hate I receive--there is good in each one--they are all "nice" somewhere deep within themselves and through love we can bring that out. In each person there is the face of Christ. It means telling people we all deserve justice when we hurt people, but we are all entitled to mercy as well. Mercy means we love them whether they are repentant or not, mercy means we love them for being human beings, and children of God. For me personally these are not just words--I bear the scars on my body, I bear the scars in my psyche, I bear the scars in often being alone. I am rejected often, and I am also loved often. On my wall, on my book shelves, on my phone, I see the photos of all the "weird" people I know--they struggle for food, a place to sleep, they have no friends in the mainstream, they are often dirty, and they can be mean, they live their lives as they choose. They are rejected because they choose their lifestyle of independence. That choice leads often to being homeless, and many choose that as a price to pay. The choices I make every day have reverberations. And I pay the price for those choices, but if my choices bring life to others, than the cost is worth it. And for me to see the face of a young man brighten when I buy him his first new jacket in who knows how long is worth it. It is in the simple things we find joy. These are my own personal reflections on this book in which Nordby sums up his views on life , and the way I see Jesus viewing life, and this quote from our author gives us a cue on how to approach life: "This is a not a time for martyrs. The era of suffering saviors is over. We are not throwing our lives away like cannon fodder in a hopeless war. Our greatest strength and contribution comes from living in joy. By living our truth beautifully in this world, we take our places as leaders. Now is the time we are the people who can redefine the words "success" and "normal" and yes "weird". We live in a time when we are confronted by great pain in poverty, racial and religious discrimination. Yesterday in America, the Jesuit magazine there was an article which suggests that we are on the brink of a world war,--this is our time to be weird, to be weird in calling out for love, equality, and acceptance for all; to be weird in calling for world peace, and for all to be fed, and provided for. We can redefine life by living with out judgment, respecting all people regardless of race, religious belief, color, gender, sexual orientation, and love people--even when they do wrong. Justice is making people accountable--it is not destroying their lives, but bringing mercy. We are all held accountable for our wrongs--and we all receive mercy. For each of us have the potential to "born again", and become new people. Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God! Fr. River Damien Sims, sfw P.O. Box 642656 San Francisco, CA 94164 www.temenos.org 415-305-2124