#or the confusion at why it happened

[throwthewine]

Idk if this will interest anyone else, but I really want to talk about the songs “Ready to Start” and “Suburban War” by Arcade Fire as John and Paul (and George, and Ringo) songs. As “I need to leave the Beatles”/“I miss the Beatles” songs.

Here’s the bulk of the lyrics to “Ready to Start” (mostly a John song to me—but I think Paul and George also felt this in turns):

- If the businessmen drink my blood / Like the kids in art school said they would / Then I guess I’ll just begin again. / You say, “Can we still be friends?” / If I was scared, I would / And if I was bored, you know I would / And if I was yours… / but I’m not.

- All the kids have always known / That the emperor wears no clothes / But they bow down to him anyway / Because it’s better than being alone

- Now you’re knocking at my door / Saying, “Please come out with us tonight” / But I would rather be alone / Than pretend I feel alright

- I would rather be wrong / Than live in the shadows of your song

- My mind is open wide / And now I’m ready to start / You’re not sure you’ll open the door / And step out into the dark / But now I’m ready

And then there’s “Suburban War”, which feels like the response or sequel—note the reuse of the line “shadows of your song.” (And btw, I think the idea of “the suburbs” here acts as a representative for any shared world of an adolescent friend group.)

- My old friends, it was so different then / Before your war against the suburbs began

- Now the music divides us into tribes / You grew your hair, so I grew mine / You said the past won’t rest / until we jump the fence and leave it behind

- My old friends, I can remember when / you cut your hair, I never saw you again / Now the cities we live in could be distant stars / And I’ll search for you in every passing car

- I’ve been living in the shadows of your song

- But you started a war that you can’t win / And keep erasing all the streets we grew up in / Now the music divides us into tribes / You choose your side, I’ll choose my side

- All my old friends, they don’t know me now / All my old friends are staring through me now / All my old friends, they don’t know me now! / All my old friends, wait

[twinstxrs]

so much happened in this whole episode but i’m still on fig infiltrating ruben’s dream, making it look like the place where his friend was murdered, and then disguising herself as kipperlilly & repeatedly saying different variants of “somebody needs to take the fall for this, and it’s not going to be me. it’s going to be you.” while adaine as the elven oracle shows up next to her. can you imagine waking up from that, the idea of a horrible truth being pinned on you by your friend to save her own skin while the personification of fate and destiny stands there, almost as a promise that this is GOING to happen to you. we don’t even know if this kid is guilty. my god.

[an-internet-introvert]

Countdown to October 19th (15/19)

DanandPhilGAMES Comeback

[morganbritton132]

Continuing on from this:

Eddie: *drags Steve to Hellfire, a surprisingly easy task*

Eddie: *allows Steve to sit through a campaign instead of forcing him to play even though he threw a fit the one time Grant had to bring his sister with him to Hellfire*

Eddie: *insists that he needs Steve’s watch for the campaign and then continually lied to him about the time so he missed his plans to meet up with Nancy later*

Eddie: *doesn’t even bitch Steve out for interrupting*

Hellfire, when Steve goes to the bathroom: Hey, Eddie. Quick question. What the fuck is going on here?

Eddie: Be nice to him. I’m in the middle of some white knight shit so join my cause or may your characters die by my sword.

Hellfire:

Hellfire, deep sigh: Fine

Steve: *notices the distinct lack of girls in Hellfire and knows that Eddie only lives with an uncle*

Steve, when he’s alone with Hellfire: So, uh, does Eddie know any…women?

Hellfire:

Hellfire, collectively: *thinks ‘oooooh, this is a gay thing’*

[front-facing-pokemon]

[cockroachesunite]

(Previously ☞ 1 , 2 , 3)

(part 1)

[tiktaaliker]

because I was thinking about this again, here's a little collection of blaseball screenshots without context.

[soratsuart]

I find it incredibly funny seeing some fans complain that the movie wasn't "lore accurate" as if FNAF has ever been consistent with its lore, like

Wow, the movie changes a lot of stuff and is not accurate to what we thought we knew? *looks at The Silver Eyes trilogy* I can't believe that, how horrible *looks at The Silver Eyes trilogy* Who would've thought they'd change stuff that makes us doubt what we know about the series *looks at the fourth fucking closet*

[lurukifennecfox]

Danny was utterly unamused with current situation.

current situation being he was stuck as phantom babysitting his own corpse. because apparently if you summon a Halfa just the wrong way they get split into a full ghost and a zombie which currently was trying to climb a fire escape for some ancients forsaken reason!! why'd they even summon some protector spirit from Illenois? why is it doing a backflip? How does it know how???

what's worse is he's currently in Gotham because Jazz wanted to go to Gotham U and his parents decided it was a good idea to do a family vacation together in the America's most crime ridden city. and he hasn't got a chance to tell them yet about the whole halfa thing and he's not telling them now while HOLY SHIT HOW HE GOT IMPALED he looked away for ONE MOMENT!!

Danny just lost track of his corpse... in gotham

why's his zombie so restless again?

the bats are now looking at a ghost who is chasing a talon around gotham. which is concerning.

danny meanwhile:

Phantom: Daniel James Fenton YOU WILL NOT COMMIT MURDER LIKE THAT

Talon Danny's corpse: 🦉

[firequeenofficial]

What did I miss???

[theminecraftbee]

There are several things Martyn realizes, all at once, when he opens his eyes:

He is dreaming.

It's one of those in-between dreams, the ones that aren't quite dreams.

He is sitting at a green felted table. It is sitting on a stage. The lighting is dim, and no one is watching, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the stagehands dressed in black, waiting.

He is not the only one sitting at the table. There is a Watcher, draped in purple. There is a Listener, draped in yellow. There is someone he recognizes in a red sweater. There is someone he thinks he should recognize, but can't quite, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Right. What's all this, then," he mutters.

We are playing blackjack, the Listener says.

We are deciding the rules, the Watcher says.

"It's not like we have anything better to do. Honestly, I'm glad you're here. Do you know how boring these guys are?" Grian says, and Martyn decides to quietly file Grian away as a dream-Grian, as opposed to real-life-Grian, so he doesn't go insane and/or stab him when he wakes up. He waits for the almost-familiar dealer to say something. He does not. After another few moments of awkward nonsense dream-silence, Martyn sighs and leans forward on the table.

"Sure, this might as well be happening," Martyn says. "Deal me in. How's the betting work, again?"

"You put your bet on the table. If you beat the dealer, you get to add it to the game," Grian explains. "If you don't beat the dealer, it takes it."

"Yeah, but like, that's abstract, isn't it? What does that mean, exactly, me losing what I bet if I don't beat the dealer," Martyn says.

Grian shrugs. "Don't ask me. To be honest, I'm hardly the storyteller you are."

"Me? Why are you acting like I have any control over these things when you're--"

Are you ready to play?

Martyn shuts up, looks at the Listener, and sighs. "Yeah, sure, I'm ready to play. Why not."

The dealer looks to its left. Grian sighs. "Why are you making me bet first. Again. We should rotate where we're sitting--fine, fine, I know it's an advantage because I'm the worst at this. Uh. Hm. No trading or giving away lives again. Not even as time or something. It makes the dynamics all weird, and I think we could use a nice straightforward death game next time."

(Martyn wants to roll his eyes. Nice and straightforward. Sure.)

The Watcher goes next. I would like there to be deep and wonderful bonds between the players. I would like those bonds to seem unbreakable.

"Coming from you, that's ominous," Martyn says.

Can I not just miss the alliances of the early days? the Watcher says.

"Never left the desert," Grian says, rolls his eyes, and looks at Martyn in commiseration. Martyn just stares back. So sue him, he's a bit more worried about this whole concept than an eye roll and a pithy phrase. Things Watchers want are rarely good.

When the bonds are enforced, they're less interesting, complains the Listener.

Martyn looks over sharply. Hey, wait, he thought--

I didn't say they had to be enforced by rule. I said they had to be deep. Encouraged, as opposed to discouraged.

Just saying. You'll never recapture Third Life.

Martyn swallows. His throat is dry. Weren't the Listeners supposed to be the good guys, here?

Besides, what I want is for each death to be meaningful again. They've felt too meaningless, lately, the Listener continues.

Martyn thinks the dealer raises an eyebrow, but it strikes him he's not exactly sure. Grian snorts. "Meaningful deaths. That's rich for you to say. I mean, I guess they're meaningful sometimes? I don't know, Martyn's the one who understands dramatic sacrifices, I just like killing things."

"Why do you keep on looking at me when you say those things," Martyn says.

"Look, you wouldn't be here if you weren't helping write," Grian says.

"What?" Martyn says.

We're here to play our cards for the story, the Watcher says. Aren't you also one of the authors?

"Me? What? No, I'm--what are you talking about," Martyn says.

Oh, well. I also hope your meaningful deaths make it in, the Watcher says the Listener.

Thanks, even if I disagree on the bonds, the Listener says.

"They hardly ever talk about real, concrete rules they want," complains Grian. "It's easier to understand the consequence if they bring up actual rules. Like boogeyman or no boogeyman."

"We're all just betting on cards!" Martyn says, throwing his hands up. "You're giving me a headache!"

It's your bet.

"Fine!" Martyn says. "Fine! You know what? Screw all of you. I hope this is the last one. I hope we never have to go back to that stupid death game. I hope it's miserable to watch or to listen to or to play and everyone just gives up. How's that for a bet?"

You're no fun.

Is that what you really want?

"Suit yourself," Grian says. "Honestly, if I still had that to bet, I guess I probably would."

"What do you mean, if you still had that to bet?"

"Well, I mean, that's not how blackjack works, is it? I don't just get back my in when I play it."

The dealer nods, and then silently, with a long bony hand, deals the cards.

Grian is dealt the four of diamonds. The Watcher is dealt the nine of spades. The Listener is dealt the five of clubs. Martyn is dealt a jack of spades. The dealer deals itself a seven of hearts. The dealer deals Grian a six of clubs--

"Hey, isn't that supposed to be face-down?" Martyn asks.

"Not here," Grian explains. "They're all face up so we can't touch the cards. So we don't have to. So we can't cheat."

"Who said anything about cheating?" Martyn says.

"Please," Grian says.

The dealer makes a hand motion. Martyn, grumpily, falls silent. He supposes they're playing by casino rules, then. He hasn't been in a casino since--he wouldn't know. Hard to remember anything that isn't this, isn't it? Isn't killing and dying and things out of his control and things very much in his control and, apparently, bizarre dream sequences designed to make him want to strangle Grian.

Anyway. Grian is dealt a six of clubs, giving him ten. The Watcher is given an eight of spades, giving it seventeen. The Listener is dealt a king of hearts, giving it fifteen. Martyn is given a six of clubs, giving him sixteen. The dealer deals its own second card face-down. Martyn stops to try to speak, and then shuts his mouth. Right. Dealer's advantage.

He stares at the numbers.

Grian sighs. "Well, I've got to double down, don't I? Fine. I want the whole 'red lives can kill' thing to be enforced somehow. I don't care how. There's my double down."

The dealer nods.

"Why would you want that," Martyn says blankly.

If we all win, that will be interesting with the bonds, the Watcher says mildly.

Grian shrugs. "I mean, we've enforced red names not befriending green names, but not the murder thing before. Figure we should switch up the game, right?"

"Why?" Martyn says again.

Well, it wouldn't do for it to be boring.

"No, not that. Just... isn't it easier to handle when the rules are laid out properly?"

Martyn throws his hands up, but stops arguing. The dealer gives Grian a face-down card. The dealer moves to the next party at the table.

The Watcher looks over at the dealer and makes a cutting-off motion. I stand.

The dealer moves on. Hit me, the Listener says, and is dealt the queen of diamonds. The Listener gestures to Martyn. It seems I bust. Pity. I suppose there will be no guarantee of meaning, then. Not what I'd prefer.

The dealer looks at Martyn. Martyn looks at the other hands. Martyn pauses.

"Wait, this is like, casino blackjack, yeah? I'm only playing against you, not the whole table?"

"Why would you be playing against us?" Grian says. "Writing's a collaborative process."

Martyn looks entreatingly at the Listener, but the Listener is a little too caught up in the bad hand it has been dealt. Martyn looks entreatingly at the Watcher, but the Watcher just looks somehow confused.

"I was under the impression that, I don't know, you all were adversarial."

Why? All we want is the same thing as you: the story to be told a certain way.

Martyn's not sure if he's furious or just numb.

"Fine. Got a sixteen, don't I? Hit me."

Two of spades.

He's furious. He wants to win against the dealer. He wants to win against everyone. He wants his idea to make it through. He has an eighteen, though. There are only two numbers in the deck that will not bust him, and he's no fool. Hitting on sixteen is a risk enough; if he wants his stupid bet of everything finally ending to make it through, he's got to hold here.

"I hold," he says through gritted teeth.

The dealer silently deals itself another card. A three of hearts. Distantly, Martyn's ears rush. He could have taken that. He could have taken the hit. He could have won. He could have had blackjack, and he doesn't know what the extra payout for blackjack even means in a game like this one, but he could have had it, and he held back, he didn't take the risk, he didn't--

The dealer flips up its cards. Seven, eight, three. Eighteen.

Martyn's heart pounds. A stand-off.

Grian flips up his own card and groans. It's a five of diamonds. "There goes that bet," he mutters.

The dealer makes a sweeping motion around the table. The Watcher smiles, a terrible, terrible thing. Martyn, all at once, realizes that he can't ask again. He can't say 'this is guaranteed to be the last one' again. He backs out of his chair. To the sides, he sees the stagehands change the lighting. A spotlight, on him and the dealer--

"That isn't fair," he says. "It's a tie. I should get my bet back, right? It's a tie!"

THAT IS WHERE WE DIFFER FROM THE HOUSES IN VEGAS, the dealer says, and Martyn's heart stops.

(The voice is familiar. Familiar, but he cannot place it.)

YOU SEE, IN THIS GAME, THERE IS ALWAYS ONE THING THAT HAS AN ADVANTAGE. ONE THING THE STORY IS ALWAYS PLAYING AGAINST. ONE THING, THAT INEVITABLY, AFTER LONG ENOUGH PLAYING, WILL WIN.

There, the dealer looks Martyn in the eyes, and Martyn, all at once, knows exactly what the dealer must be.

AND THAT IS ME.

Martyn stares Death in the eyes.

Then, in a cold sweat, Martyn wakes up.

He does not sleep again for a long time.

[newtonartemisscamander]

Who had warrior cats trending in the year of our lord 2024 on their bingo cards

[hollow-l1es]

guys. Jayce promised viktor he would destroy the hexcore. Then he didn’t and the hexcore fused itself with Viktor to save his life. Viktor left and Jayce got absorbed by the arcane. He saw things. And then he understood that Viktor was right. The hexcore had to be destroyed. Only this time the hexcore…is Viktor.

He did not fail.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 114

What do y’know, another de-aged Danny. And another Danny with Talons. Only this time he’s found by a specific Talon. A very old Talon who is a very dramatic bastard. A very dramatic bastard who half grew up in a circus as a knife juggler and thrower. 

One Elder Talon William Cobb, has now acquired a Hatchling. Along with his fledgling Gray Son who keeps trying to peer at the small not-quite Talon. Why he gets this sensation to not tell the Court, he isn’t quite sure, but his instincts have never driven him wrong before. 

Now if only the bats would stop chasing them while his flock are trying to search for a nesting spot…

[bunnieswithknives]

The sillies!! Might gonna change Demon Laios' design later and I still need a name for whatever this AU is

[front-facing-pokemon]