#slight edit for colonialism

[feyburner]

This is part of a longer thing I may post on ao3 at some point but here’s some silly little Jaytim texting AU. I use this format as a writing warmup.

EDIT: This has been posted on AO3.

[Unknown] »

Hey. This is Jason. 

I have a favor to ask. You can say no.

« tim

uh

1. i’m aware of how favors work  

2. what is it?

« tim

?

« tim

hey are you like. good

J »

Yeah fine 

Sry. Rethinking this maybe

« tim

what, do you need a kidney or something?

i can’t give you a kidney.

i don’t have any organs to spare.

J »

What ? 

« tim

what’s the favor?

J »

I wouldn’t ask if it wasnt important

I’d ask Roy but hes in star city 

or Kori but shes off world

I tried dickhead but hes in haven. Cant get away tonight

« tim

yeah jason i get it lol

J »

So Im currently in the cargo hold of a private yacht

« tim

what >?

J »

We’re caught in the storm thats hitting the city its a whole thing. 

« tim

are you in the cargo hold of your own volition or did someone put you there

J »

So I dont think I can get back t

No its on purpose

« tim

hang on. you’re in gotham bay right now? in a boat?  

jason this storm is really bad.

it’s already sunk a houseboat and a fishing boat at the marina

J »

I dont think I can get back totown toni

Christ you type fast 

Shut up for a sec. Clam down

Clam*

*Calm fuck me

Thought I was gnna be back tonight but bc of storm its not looking great.

Can you feed my sourdough starter 

« tim

what

J »

4511 overhill apt 6D 

Key under the neighbors mat. 6H

« tim

hey to clarify. “its not looking great” ← what does that mean

J »

Starter is on counter. in glass jar 

Should just need one feeindg. Maybe 2. depending 

« tim

on???

J »

On wwhen I get back?

« tim

so you do plan on coming back

J »

Yeah timothy I’m in a boat not the heart of Mount Doom

« tim

yeah? vaders not there? so that means everything’s fine? 

J »

Did you

jst say Vader

As in Darth

« tim

??? 

J »

Oh my god

« tim

jason are you in peril or what.

J »

No im not in “peril” lol.

Did you see the thing I said about my sourddough starter

It needs to be fed

« tim

wtf is a sourdough starter

nvm i googled it

J »

Its a live bacteria colony you use to m 

Oh ok

Yeah so it just needs 50g lukewarm water + 50g flour

Theres a scale next to the jar

Stir until it looks like hummus

Put lid back on

The end

« tim

the internet says if you put it in the fridge it doesn’t need daily feedings

J »

Sure. But that would mess up my bread schedule

« tim

your bread schedule 

J »

Man are gyou gonna fuckin feed Breadie Mercury or should I find someone else

« tim

im already en route. 

J »

Oh

Ok

Thank you.

Wtf dont text and motorbike  

« tim

how about you dont text and Sinking Boat

J »

Hey its not like I’m gonna cause a boat crash

« tim

i was stopped at a red light 😐

anwyay i’m at your place.

1. why do you not have a security system. when you said key under the neighbor’s mat i thought you were joking. 

2. how warm is lukewarm

J »

1. I’m the security system

« tim

just rolled my eyes so hard it actually physically hurt

J »

God youre annoying

2. ? Its lukewarm

« tim

ohhhhh thanks! that’s so helpful :) here i am trying not to murder your incredibly important bacteria colony that i just drove across town for but no thats great jason very descriptive thanks :) 

J »

Like warm but not too wram, nothing you’d want to take a bath in

Can you fucking

I TYPE SLOW.

« tim

ok.

[Image Attached]

he is fed

J »

Thanks man.

Sincerely.

« tim

so hows the cargo hold going

still intact i assume? 

J »

Mostly ya

« tim

pardon? 

J »

Slight leakage. Nothing major

« tim

oh? are you a boatologist now? 

i dont think you’re qualified to judge that?

J »

Moving right past “boatologist” out of the goodness of my heart.

Chill lol. If it was rly bad thered probably be some sort of alar

Hm.

« tim

did an alarm just start going off

J »

Dont worry about it

« tim

im not. 

did it though

also which yacht? im in the marinas scheduling dtabase

blue miracle, serendipity, carp-e diem? which one

« tim

jason?

« tim

if this is a joke it’s not funny

oh cool you’re not on comms either. great.

hey if youre dead again and i just fed your stupid starter for nothing im gonna be soooo mad just fyi

« tim

ugh.

*

J »

Hey

Thanks again for the

I’m not gonna say “save” bc I was doinf just fine on my own.

But thanks for the backup.

Lmk when youre home

Nope sorry lol you dont have to do that.

Night.

« tim

home

J »

Also I just saw your messaages from

Ah. 👍

From earlier. 

« tim

you mean from when you said “huh, this boat seems to be filling with water” and then disappeared? those messages? 

J »

Those were not my exact words.

« tim

right. your exact words contained somehow even less information 

J »

Shut up

I just wanted to 

You know. Youre the only one who jokes about it

The only one in the family I mean

your family, I mean

The bats.

« tim

? 

the only one who jokes about what

J »

Me being dead

« tim

oh. 

ok. well

its not like. actually funny to me. i was just annoyed. sorry i guess

J »

No thats not 

Tim. Shut up.

I dont mind. I like that one of you does. 

Its better than people talking around it. Like its this big shameful thing I did.

One of many

If I mention it in front of dickhead he does the face

the :~{ face

« tim

wow its uncanny

uh. for the record. 

i don’t think that’s the reason people talk around it

if im correct in thinking that by “people” you mean “one specific person whose name rhymes with Rat Can” 

 

J »

Yeah well

I just

Christ never mind. Im sorry. You are not the person to be sayign this to.

Im gonna shut the fuck up I think. 

Goodnight.

« tim

oh what, you can’t talk to me about being dead bc of that one time you tried to kill me? 

and failed btw :/ 

J »

Tim

Not to be so unchill

But you know how me being dead isnt actaully funny to you

« tim

…got it. sorry

J »

No. don’t apologize to me

Ever

I’m serious 

« tim

like for anything? 

what if i killed breadie mercury 

J »

You didnt. He is thriving

« tim

he is?

wait. really?

you can tell?

J »

[Image Attached]

Hes doubled in size since you fed him.

« tim

whoa

J »

Yup. Thanks again for thattoo.

*that too

Its stupid but hes kinda my son.

« tim

wouldn’t he technically be like, 10 billion sons

J »

He is my 10 billion sons.

« tim

lolol

wow. why am i so pleased hes thriving lol 

J »

Right

« tim

jeez

i was so worried about the water temp

google said lukewarm is 98-105 so i did 98 to be safe

J »

You used a thermometer? 

« tim

your instructions were vague!

i didnt want to kill your bacteria colony!

J »

Thanks Tim.

« tim

? you already said that lol

i gotta pass out btw

glad you didnt die: the sequel in a yacht

that would have been so cringe

night jason

J »

Night

*

J »

You up?

« tim

obviously

why

J »

Could use your eyes on something.

[Image Attached]

« tim

morse code but the dots and dashes are reversed and its spelling backwards in russian, ASTITP AYALEB AVD RTSIRP → PRISTR DVA BELAYA PTITSA → PIER TWO WHITE BIRD

J »

Bc it looks like morse but its not, its kind of scrambl 

Ok jesus christ . 

30 seconds? Seriously? Fuck me

Can I hire you? Jesus lol

« tim

that depends. do you pay more than batman?

J »

The fuck? Does he pay you guys now?

« tim

no.

J »

Then yes. I do pay more than batman.

« tim

how much more

J »

One coffee per codebreak? 

« tim

:\

J »

Two coffees per codebreak

Two and a loaf of sourdough

« tim

sourdough from breadie mercury?

J »

Ya

« tim

done

J »

Damn. I feel like you should have higher standards

« tim

i mean i was already gonna do it for free

now i have successfully negotiated coffee & sustenance 

im on a roll. nothing but Ws 

J »

Ws?

« tim

its young people slang you wouldn’t get it ❤️

J »

I am barely 3 years older htan you.

It could be argued, considering certain events, that we’re basically the same age.

« tim

and yet you text like an old, old man

J »

I do not

Would you rather I texted like “idk brb lmao roflcopter”

« tim

ROFLCOPTER?

oh my god. ohhhhhh jason. oh my god

that is absolutely not what the kids are saying these days. oh my god

J »

Ok you know what. At least I know Mount Doom isnt a Star Wars thing

« tim

? 

oh, is it star trek? 

J »

I’m 99% sure youre antagonizing me on purpose

But have you seriously not read or watched Lord of the Rings

« tim

no i have not.

J »

Hm.

« tim

what

J »

Nothing.

« tim

……….what

*

« tim

did you NARC on me

to BRUCE

about LORD OF THE RINGS?????

J »

I don’t know what you’re talking about.

« tim

WHY DO I NOW HAVE 3 SEPARATE SUNDAY AFTERNOON “HOUSE MEETINGS” BLOCKED OFF IN MY CALENDAR, JASON? 

WHY ARE THEY EACH 4 HOURS LONG?

WHY ARE THEY LABELED “CULTURAL EDUCATION (MANDATORY)”? 

J »

I can’t pretend to know what goes on in B’s mind.

That said, I have reason to believe he and Alfred take lotr pretty seriously.

« tim

its a TWELVE HOUR MOVIE

about GOBLINS

J »

I’m not gonna respond to that bc I know youre just lashing out.

« tim

if youve sentenced me to 12 hours of a movie i hate i’m gonna hack everything you own. 

im gonna mass text the entire cape wearers community the footage of that time condiment king kicked your ass so bad he felt guilty and offered to personally help you out of the mustard pool 

J »

What the fuck

How do you fuckig know about ?????? that???????? 

Not that ithahpened 

What hefuckk ??

« tim

ooooooooo you better hope i love these goblins!

J »

Why are you?? evil??

« tim

you should have killed me when you had the chance!!

sorry.

J »

Its ok. That one was pretty funny tbh.

Oh hm shouldnt have laughed just then. Bad timing on my part

Brb

« tim

uh

« tim

ok…….. getting reports of a “disturbance” at pier two…….. 

« tim

sorry were you texting me *mid-standoff* with the russian mafia

« tim

ugh.

*

« tim

you know tracking your location would be so much easier if i didn’t have to hack into your comm sys every time

luckily your encryption is garbage but still. its 2 minutes of my life i wont get back.

J »

Not sure I recall giving you permission to track my location?

« tim

oh i’m sorry. next time i will simply leave you to go down with a texas oil magnate’s incredibly tacky yacht, or get swiss cheesified by mobsters 

J »

Hey I wrapped up the russians myself 

« tim

yeah? 

J »

…

Yeah….

« tim

so you thought the 12-minute universal signal jam was the act of a benevolent god? 

J »

:-|

« tim

im just saying it would be significantly more efficient if you agreed to a tracker

just one little tracker. you wouldn’t even notice it’s there.

think of all the time and energy you’d save me

J »

I feel the need to point out that you don’t have to repeatedly hack my comms system.

« tim

i mean it’s that or monitor sightings on the gocitizen app

i have an algo that texts relevant pings to me, which is super helpful for when i want an inbox full of random people talking about how hot you are. less helpful for literally every other circumstance 

J »

Uh

What

« tim

how hot *red hood is. to clarify

in their opinion

the people’s opinion

J »

?

« tim

the people of gotham city

J »

The people of Gotham city do not think Red Hood is hot lol

« tim

wait 

i cant tell if you’re being serious

J »

Uh? Yeah Im being serious? Lol tf

Why would they think hes hot 

They dont think Batman is hot 

« tim

o���kay…

huh.

how to… hmm

J »

Like nightwing sure

And the girls. Bc of objectification of women

« tim

oh wow

J »

Red Robin. If i had to guess

But when people see Hood its definitely not… that kind of response lol

« tim

what kind of response, exactly

J »

You know like saying “Hey Hood youre hot” 

« tim

oh, wow. 

okay. ummm

hmm. one sec.

J »

?

« tim

check your email 

J »

Ok…? 

J »

Oh my fucking god.

« tim

yeah

J »

Oh my god?

« tim

yeah

J »

This document is fucking 45 pages long?

« tim

its everything from the past 30 days yeah

J »

The past

Whaht the fuck

Ok some of these people definitely got hit by Poison Ivy.

This is . Tim wtf. I havent even heard of some of this stuff. 

« tim

oof are you on page 14

J »

Im on page 3???

« tim

oh my god

J »

What the fuck

Please please tell me its not like this for Batman too

Tim

« tim

its not like this for batman :)

J »

Ok. Jesus. I would genuinely have to move cities.

« tim

its worse :)

J »

Oh what the fuck

Oh my fucking god page 14.

You get this shit TEXTED to you?????

Ohm ygod. You read this?????

« tim

i mean

no

i glance at it

for security purposes.

i dont like, read it read it

anyway did you seriously not know? haha

J »

No??? Again its not like people tell me

« tim

yeah but

like

theres a certain level of objectivity involved, here

yknow

sorry im trying to find a non awkward way to be like “have you looked in a mirror lately” 

« tim

sorry

that was in fact awkward!

nvm

just let me know if you’d be ok with the tracker. its fine if not

i was mostly joking about the hacking

J (From Work) »

No you weren’t.

« tim

no i wasnt

i dont mind though. its like a brain teaser

anyway im going dark for patrol, later

*

J (From Work) »

[Screenshot Attached]

[Screenshot Attached]

[Screenshot Attached]

[Screenshot Attached]

[Screenshot Attached]

Question. why is the average Gotham citizen a raging horndog 

« tim

oh my god

you know i can tell you searched “red robin hot” right

J (From Work) »

Figured it was only fair

[Screenshot Attached]

This persons got some mad zoom lens skills

I’d think it was you, if it wasnt, yknow, you

« tim

wow. that is certainly a photo of my ass

…a stellar photo of my ass. wow. 

do you have a direct link? i gotta send this to steph

J (From Work) »

goctz.app/user/3824973/post/29348230df3

Haha

I kinda thought you and blondie broke up

back on again?

« tim

no lol we are very much just friends

she has a thing going with someone who shall remain nameless but suffice to say it’s Going

anyway we just send each other gocitizen vigilante ass shots 

its a whole genre

they’re like trading cards

J (From Work) »

Guess everyone’s got a hobby?

« tim

the only rule is no nightwing

J (From Work) »

Do I want to know why

« tim

he accounts for a frankly overwhelming percentage of vigilante ass shots

so its too easy

you’d THINK we’d have a no-batman rule, because ew, but due to the cape and his sixth sense for cameras pointed at him, a qualifying shot is actually extremely rare. 

← only guy who ever managed to take quality photos of batman 

anyway, we put it to a vote. i lost.

J (From Work) »

A vote between you and Steph? 

You lost a 50/50 vote?

« tim

i dont wanna talk about it.

J (From Work) »

Right. 

So what I’m getting from this is you have Red Hood ass shots in your phone.

« tim

no

J (From Work) »

No?

« tim

well

J (From Work) »

Yeah?

« tim

we don’t like, save them

that would be weird

we just notify each other. professionally, as colleagues 

and keep an ongoing points tally

thats all

so i do not currently have photos of your ass in my phone. thank you

J (From Work) »

How many points is my ass worth

« tim

i hate everything about this conversation

J (From Work) »

Its 100% your own fault, answer the question

« tim

if you must know. 

points are awarded based on a series of objective scoring criteria.

J (From Work) »

Uh huh. Like what

« tim

technical excellence

composition. lighting and color balance. 

dynamism 

J (From Work) »

Dynamism…

« tim

creativity

umm

emotional impact

and 

subject matter

J (From Work) »

I see.

« tim

ok i know it sounds bad

J (From Work) »

It sounds fucking hysterical Im near tears 

« tim

but if you think abou

oh

okay, well, great

J (From Work) »

I’ll let you know if I stumble on any more. 

Or is that cheating

« tim

its totally cheating

please do

J (From Work) »

You got it red. 👍

« tim

:)

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter II

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, sexual themes, non-linear narrative, side rainkay, trauma bonding, near death experience, brief mention of child abuse, more tags to be added

a/n: a slight correction from the first chapter: I realized after I posted that I wrote Kay being under the influence when she runs after you when she is, in fact, pregnant in this au. I don't know how I whiffed that up when it's a relevant plot point to the story (ￗ﹏ￗ) either way though, I went back and edited the chapter but just in case anyone following this story didn't reread it after I made the changes, I wanted to put a disclaimer here!

tags: @asvtrials

wc: 3.3k

Masterlist Next Chapter

You remember the night the two of you first met with a stunning amount of clarity.

It took place a few weeks after your compulsory transfer, a result of the mines in sector two having been exhausted of all its valuable resources, the higher-ups deciding to split the colonists inhabiting it among the other five.

Truthfully, you still don't know how to feel about it. Sure, it sucks being uprooted from the only home you've ever known, forced to live in an alien environment, even if it is just another extension of the same colony.

But, on the other hand, it's sorta nice—starting over. Being relocated to somewhere no one knows you, your story. Able to shed your baggage and leave it behind, only bringing with the clothes on your back and the dog tags of your late mother, the only things that truly matter to you.

You're nearing the end of another one of your shifts, sweat gathered in the folds and creases of your body, watching sparks fly off the hard mineral you're drilling into when the girl next to you yanks down her face shield, narrowly turning away from the rock wall to bend over and vomit in the walkway instead.

It’s not unusual for people to get sick while working, the conditions down here are hazardous and the safety equipment provided does little to protect you from the harsh fumes and kicked-up debris. Still, you sympathize, knowing firsthand how miserable it is to try and push through til clock out time.

However the supervisors do not, one of the men patrolling the area to ensure endless labor shouting, “worker #1693! Why have you stopped working?”

The girl lifts her head in response to being reprimanded, the headlamp strapped to her hard hat illuminating the man looming over her, the head of the drill she was still holding stabbed into the soft earth beneath their feet, using it like an impromptu crutch.

“I'm sorry sir,” she coughs, voice rough from the stomach acid and bile she just spewed everywhere, “it's morning sickness—I'm pregnant.”

A wave of compassion comes crashing down over you, everyone else in the immediate vicinity paying no mind as they continue to excavate, wanting to avoid a scolding of their own. Not that you can blame any of them, insubordination at best results in hours lost and at worst, an automatic jail sentence, the only place somehow worse than the mines.

You want to turn a blind eye like the others but—you can't, feeling guilt gnaw at your conscience. Even in the limited light you can tell she's sick, skin pale and glistening with a fresh coat of sweat, chest spasming as she doubles back over and starts to dry heave.

“Well get back to it, we have a quota to fill!” He orders, growing increasingly agitated.

Almost instantly you find the words, “how long do you have left?” leaving your mouth before you can process what you're saying, watching as she looks back to find you.

“What was that?” She asks, using the back of her wrist to wipe the string of spit hanging from her lip, looking so small and so vulnerable, like she's on the verge of passing out. It's enough to make you commit to what you say next.

Pushing the goggles up and over your helmet and the face shield down and away your mouth to unmuffle your voice you repeat, “how long do you have left? Like—how many hours?”

“Four?” She answers, confused, the same supervisor that had warned her moments ago barking, “worker #1251, why aren't you working?!” The threatening buzz of a shock stick now being aimed towards you.

Four hours. You're in the last hour of your own shift, bone-tired and barely hanging on, adding another four after the fact might actually kill you.

With that in mind you find yourself volunteering, looking between her and the guard ready to taze the fuck out of both of you, “I can pick up her hours. Sir.” You tack on, albeit sarcastically.

Her eyes round out in surprise before the skin between her eyebrows wrinkle in confusion, understandably so. It's incredibly rare for a stranger to show humanity in a hellscape like this, where it's every man for himself.

“Why?” She asks, straightening her back out, hand coming up to cup her still flat stomach.

You shrug despite knowing exactly why, not that you'd share that with a complete stranger, replying, “don't worry about it,” before offering, “because I want to,” instead, hoping to avoid any follow up questions.

A pretty smile breaks out across her face, so big her eyes nearly disappear, turning the headlamp attached to her helmet off to get a proper look at you, “thank you so much. Really. I totally owe you one.”

“Sure,” you say, not intending to cash in on that favor at all. You don't want to owe anyone anything or them to owe you.

It's a dangerous thing—caring about someone or something on Jackson's Star. One of the only valuable lessons life in the colony has taught you. Better to lessen the weight of the emotional impact when they inevitably leave. Easier.

Your eyes follow her as she walks the path leading towards the exit, a cute little skip in her step. You can't help but smile, the muscles in your cheeks twitching at the foreign stretch of your mouth. You don't remember the last time you felt one of those on your lips.

The extra time doesn't end up killing you—which sucks, it could've been your ticket out of here.

Morbid humor aside, you can barely move as you head to the clock out station, summoning the last bit of strength you have to heave the drill up on top of the counter, ignoring the loud clang it makes when it hits the metal countertop. If they wanna dock you for the damage fine, you can't find it in you to give a fuck at the moment.

The lady behind the transparent partition checks your equipment back in, the clacking of the keys sounding loud without the constant drilling, being the last miner to leave.

“Worker #1251. Drill returned, no visible damage to report. Twenty hours logged.”

“Wait,” you interrupt, her fingers pausing above the keyboard, eyes still glued to the computer screen, “the four hours. Could you give them to the girl I covered for?”

She looks at you then, like you're high on the fumes circulating through the tunnels. Maybe you are, because who just volunteers to do hard labor? And for free? That and you still have to come back and clock in four hours from now.

“Are you sure?”

Though you don't hesitate to nod before verbalizing, “yeah,” your thoughts straying to the baby she's growing inside of her, “she’s gonna need the hours more than I do.”

It'll be the last nice thing you'll ever do, because you're never doing that shit again, offering to cover for someone else, for someone you don't even know.

Except—you do.

Because the morning sickness doesn't go away for the next two weeks, no matter how little she eats to try and combat it. And, regardless of the front you put on, you have a heart. A heart and a motive, one you plan to keep close to the chest whenever you step up and tell whatever supervisor nearby that you'll take on her workload only to transfer the hours to her at the end of the night.

Her name is Kay. You learn that after the third shift you cover for her when she comes up to you during everyone's designated lunch break, taking a seat on the bench next to you, far away from the others eating together.

You're reluctant to give her yours, preferring to just be a faceless number among the crowd, because knowing each other's names means familiarity, and familiarity means attachment. And you never intended for that to happen, wanting to just keep to yourself after the transfer but Kay looks a little crushed when you don't give it to her the first time she asks so, eventually, you do.

It's fine. It's just your name. This doesn't have to mean anything.

Except—it does.

Opens the door for Kay to start joining you for lunch, to stand next to you while you're working, to start asking you about yourself, wanting to befriend the angel that's come to her rescue the last few weeks. Her words, not yours.

You don't disclose much, keeping your past private the only thing keeping you safe from heartache. From that type of overwhelmingly raw pain only loss can bring and, while you've done your absolute best to pick up the pieces, you'll never be the same.

Shattered glass can be put back together but the cracks will always, always remain.

Kay seems to pick up on it because she doesn't broach the subject again, choosing to redirect her energy by trying to convince you to come hang out with her and her friends instead.

You reject her offer every time she asks, giving out your name is one thing, socializing outside of the mines is something else entirely, but Kay is persistent, annoyingly so. Begs you to come out for just one drink whenever you guys have downtime at work, giving you the puppy dog eyes while she does it, whining and stamping her foot when you inevitably turn her down.

You're sitting together during lunch one day, on the little metal bench you claimed the first night you started working in sector six, eating the same boring sandwich you make before the start of every shift.

However, for the first time in a long time, you feel good today, well-rested, chalking it up to not covering Kay’s shifts over the last three days.

She's roughly two months along and no longer vomiting on the job site, able to work her full shifts for the last seventy two hours, the worst of the morning sickness seemingly over. You're glad she's finally feeling better, and, if you're honest, a little relieved.

Not that Kay ever expected you to cover for her, you know her well enough now to realize that, can noticeably see the gratitude she radiates every time you volunteered, but you would've kept doing it, even if she stayed sick for the remainder of her pregnancy.

“Sooo,” Kay starts, drawing out the o, playing with the bendy straw sticking out of her apple juice box, “the gang and I are gonna hit up a bar tonight.”

“Cool,” you mutter, already seeing where this is going. It's the same tactic she's used the last dozen or so times she's invited you out. “Have fun.”

Kay pouts, her eyes big and pleading, “you should come with, it'll be fun. I'll even buy you a drink so I can properly thank you for easing my stress for a little while.”

“You don't have to thank me Kay,” you reply between bites of bologna, “I didn't do it for free beer.” A chuckle following after.

“C’moooon,” Kay bemoans, wiggling her shoulders for emphasis, “stop being such a buzzkill.”

“Can’t. That's who I am, Captain Buzzkill.” Your words slightly muffled by a napkin you use to wipe your mouth clean once you finish eating, crumpling it up along with the cellophane and brown paper bag you brought your sandwich in.

“Why are you the most stubborn person alive?” She whines, chucking her now empty juice box into a nearby waste bin.

“That’s probably not true.”

“Well you're up there! Now please just come out with us tonight. For me. And if you really don't have a good time I'll never ask again.”

“Never?” You ask, feeling your resolve slowly eroding away.

Her eyes glisten with newfound hope, nodding her head enthusiastically, “never ever.”

“Fine,” you relent, “but just one.”

If this is what it takes for her to stop bugging you about it you'll do it, just this once. Besides, you can slam a beer pretty quick if you're dead set on it.

You smile and roll your eyes at the squeal she makes, her arms wrapping around you to reel you in towards her chest, hands settling on your bicep, one on top of the other, her fingers creating wrinkles in the fabric of your shirt sleeve from how tight she's hugging you.

You awkwardly pat her forearm, not used to receiving affection, “but just one,” you reiterate. If you're gonna do this you're gonna do it on your terms and your terms only.

“Just one,” she echoes, rocking the two of you back and forth, the whistle of the horn above you signaling the end of your lunch break.

One turns into three.

You had every intention to leave after the first but, as much as you hate to admit it, you are having a good time.

Kay’s friends are cool, nice, having welcomed you in with ease, like they’ve known you for a while. In a way they do, Kay having told them about you, what you did for her. You don't think it's a big deal but they seem to think so, what with the warmth they show you from the outset.

“So you're the angel that's been helping my little sis out!” Tyler, Kay’s older brother, greets you cheerfully, pupils dilated from the alcohol, having already started without you, not that you actually care. “A proper little mutha’ Theresa in our midst!”

You snort at that, waving him off, “not really. She's pregnant. I'm not so, I thought I'd just help her out.”

“Well it's really sweet,” Rain chimes in, more reserved than the others, preferring to let everyone else talk. You can already tell the two of you will get along. “Which is pretty rare to find around here.”

Besides Tyler and Rain, there's Rain’s brother Andy and their friend Navarro. Andy, like Rain, is also on the quiet side, the programming he has installed a little outdated. Though Navarro, the resident techxpert, is working on an upgrade, building a chip out of scrap metal and wiring, she scavenges from the local scrapyard.

You're all crowded around one of the dozen or so tables taking up half the floor, the bar brimming with other colonists, knocking back beers or playing darts, the room filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter blending together. It's not a place you would choose to go on your own but it does add another layer of entertainment when you're with the right people.

“I guess,” you reply, cautiously agreeing with Rain, even though you know she's more than correct. It's just hard for you to accept compliments, you're just not used to hearing them and don't think very highly of yourself to begin with.

You finish off the rest of your drink, pulling your leather wallet out of the back pocket of your jeans to order another, but Tyler is quick to stop you.

“Nah—nah,” Tyler says, his hand lifting off the tabletop to wave you off, “don't even,” he pauses to turn away and burp before turning back around to face you again, “don't even trip. I got your tab covered.”

“You sure?” You ask, hesitating to put your money away. It's not like you all are compensated fairly for your slave labor. That and if you let him pay for your drinks, wouldn't you owe him then? No, you reason in your slightly tipsy state, he's paying you back for taking care of Kay, meaning you'll be even and no one will owe anyone anything.

So—you let him buy you more drinks, slowly but surely relaxing, thanks to the alcohol and the easygoing nature of those around you. It's clear how much he cares for Kay by how he's treating you.

It's endearing, you can't deny that. Apparently Rain and Tyler dated for a short period of time, just under a month before Rain realized she was really into Kay. But, instead of getting angry or jealous, Tyler just accepted it, even gave his blessing since Rain was better than the jerk that knocked his sister up anyway.

It's been a good night—a great one, better than you could've ever imagined, but something always has to come along and ruin it. Life just has a funny way of doing that.

“Bjorn, mate!” Tyler yells over the noise, looking towards the front door with his arm waving in the air, flagging someone over, “over here!”

That someone maneuvers around the crowd, appearing at Tyler's side in just under a minute, a grin splitting his face in two as he takes the empty seat next to him, swiping Tyler’s drink to wash down his excitement.

“Good night?” Tyler jokes, taking in Bjorn’s appearance, currently vibrating on the bar stool he's sitting on, his attention focused solely on his cousin.

“I'm fuckin’ buzzin’ mate! I finally beat that stupid fuckin’ level,” he begins, launching into a tirade about some game he's been playing for awhile, hands coming up to wildy gesticulate as he speaks.

Your eyes are automatically drawn to him, analyzing his side profile while he's distracted. He's attractive, probably one of the most attractive men you've ever laid eyes on. From his under plucked brows to the oceanic hue of his irises, the single silver hoop threaded through his ear and the silly little frowny face tattoo on his neck down to the plushness of his pretty pink lips, framed by just the right amount of facial hair. He's perfect. Perfect until he opens his big fucking mouth.

He finally registers who's sitting around the table, eyes angrily narrowing when he zeroes in on Andy, gaze flickering over to Rain, “why tha’ fuck did you bring this rust bucket ‘ere?”

“Bjorn,” both Rain and Tyler preemptively warn, like they know what's about to follow and they probably do, considering he's Tyler’s cousin. Rain takes the lead on this one, adding, “don’t start.”

“And why tha’ fuck not? Ya’ fuckin’ knew how I'd feel if he was ‘ere! Ida’ just stayed tha’ fuck home,” he hisses, accent made thicker by his anger.

Tyler pinches the bridge of his nose, looking exasperated by his cousin already, “we just wanted to come for a pint mate. All of us. No use losin’ your head over it.”

“Right. Right. No use. Just like this hunka junk synth.”

You’ve never had a filter, never needed one when you've grown up never having to consider someone else's feelings so you can't help but snark, “do you practice being an asshole in the mirror or does it just come naturally to you?”

You feel everyone’s eyes on you, probably taken aback by your intervention, not expecting you, a total stranger, to speak up on behalf of Andy. But—you've never been good at biting your tongue, never needed to when you only have yourself to worry about, overconfident in voicing your displeasure when you're the only one who'll be punished for it, unlike those with familial connections who talk back to the higher-ups.

“And who tha’ bloody fuck are you?” He spits, face souring like he's bit into a lemon, looking you up and down, from the flat tabletop that sits under your breasts up to your hairline.

“Not a piece of shit like you,” you retort, squeezing the unopened beer Tyler bought for you, hard enough to crease the label wrapped around the circumference of the glass.

“So!” Tyler interrupts, trying to change the subject, directing his attention to you, “why’d it take ya so long to come out and join us?”

Kay squeezes your knee under the table and Rain looks grateful, reassuring a somewhat confused Andy that he's more than welcome to be here, that he isn't bothering anyone that isn't a totally immature man baby.

“Not really my scene,” you answer, ignoring the crisp hiss of the carbon dioxide being released when you pop the lid on the glass bottle Tyler bought you.

“Oh! Not good enough for ya’ princess?” Bjorn mocks, still simmering with anger from his side of the table.

“No, just not good enough for you, asshat,” you flip him off, still pissed on behalf of Rain and Kay and any girl that has to interact with him, feeling Kay’s fingers curl around your shoulders like she's trying to stop you.

You decide to let it go, for now, despite how angry you are, for Kay, sticking it out until she warns you it's time to leave. Because other than that—fuck that guy

[estapa-edwards]

Ethan Edwards x y/n McRae anon here

Request-

Ethan getting teased for liking edits of y/n McRae on TikTok when she back up dances for Tate while she's on tour, but y/n goes to the Duke's Memorial Day weekend party thing they throw every year and y/n is teaching some of the girls there dances from tour for a TikTok video where Ethan just watches with a smile that y/n is having fun outside of touring with her sister and then have some kind of smut that you have some freedom/creativity

FAMOUS - E. EDWARDS

Ethan Edwards x reader

word count: 2.5k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n. slight smut

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Y/N McRae was the younger sister of Tate McRae, a rising star in the music industry. Tate's tours were electrifying, and Y/N had become an internet sensation in her own right, thanks to her mesmerizing dance moves as her sister’s backup dancer. Fans of Tate’s shows often posted TikTok videos of Y/N dancing, and Ethan had found himself captivated by her talent and charisma.

He had followed Y/N’s account for a while, enjoying the behind-the-scenes glimpses of tour life and the candid moments she shared with her followers. But it was the fan-made edits—those short, artfully crafted videos highlighting Y/N’s best dance moves and infectious smile—that Ethan couldn’t get enough of. He was so engrossed in them that he didn’t realize how obvious his infatuation had become.

It was a typical Friday afternoon at Central High, and Ethan was hanging out in the cafeteria with his friends. The usual banter and laughter filled the air, but today, the conversation had taken a different turn.

"Hey, Ethan, have you seen this new edit of Y/N McRae?" his friend Mark called out, holding up his phone.

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat. He tried to play it cool, but the heat creeping up his neck gave him away. "Uh, yeah, I think I saw that one," he mumbled.

Mark’s grin widened. "Dude, you’re totally obsessed with her. You’ve got, like, a dozen of her videos saved on your phone."

Ethan's friends burst into laughter, and he could feel his face turning crimson. He tried to brush it off with a chuckle. "Come on, guys, she's just a great dancer."

"Sure, sure," Sarah, one of the girls in their group, teased. "Admit it, Ethan. You’ve got a massive crush on Y/N."

The truth was, Ethan couldn’t deny it. There was something about Y/N that drew him in—the way she moved with such grace and confidence, the joy that radiated from her whenever she danced. He admired her from afar, knowing that someone like Y/N, always on the move and in the spotlight, was out of his league.

--- --- --- 

Every year, the Duke family threw a massive Memorial Day weekend party at their sprawling estate. It was the social event of the season, drawing students from all over the area. This year, Y/N had decided to take a break from the tour and join the festivities, much to Ethan’s surprise and excitement.

The Duke’s estate was buzzing with activity. The main house, a grand colonial-style mansion, was surrounded by acres of lush gardens, a pool, and a lake. The party had everything—music, food, games, and a sense of freedom that came with the beginning of summer.

Ethan arrived with his friends, trying to hide his anticipation. He knew Y/N would be there, and he couldn’t help but hope for a chance to talk to her. As the day went on, he mingled with his friends, played a few games of volleyball, and tried to enjoy himself. But his eyes kept wandering, searching for any sign of Y/N.

Finally, in the late afternoon, he spotted her near the pool. She was surrounded by a group of girls, all of them eagerly listening to her as she demonstrated some dance moves. Y/N’s laughter floated through the air, and Ethan couldn’t help but smile. She looked genuinely happy, free from the pressures of the tour.

Y/N caught sight of Ethan watching her and flashed him a bright smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and he awkwardly waved back. She gestured for him to come over, and he hesitated for a moment before walking towards her.

“Hey, Ethan!” Y/N greeted him warmly. “Do you want to join us? I’m teaching some of the girls a dance routine for a TikTok video.”

Ethan tried to keep his cool. “Sure, why not?”

Y/N’s energy was infectious. She led the group through a series of dance steps, patiently explaining each move and offering encouragement. Ethan found himself getting into the groove, his initial nervousness melting away. The girls giggled and cheered each other on, and even though Ethan wasn’t the best dancer, he was having a blast.

As the sun began to set, the group decided to film the TikTok video. They took several takes, laughing at their mistakes and celebrating when they finally nailed the routine. Y/N posted the video, and within minutes, it started to garner likes and comments.

“Thanks for joining us, Ethan,” Y/N said with a smile. “You’re a pretty good dancer.”

Ethan chuckled. “Thanks, but I think I’ll leave the professional dancing to you.”

Y/N laughed, a sound that made Ethan’s heart flutter. “Fair enough. But you did great.”

They spent the rest of the evening talking and getting to know each other. Ethan learned that Y/N was just as down-to-earth and fun-loving as she appeared online. She shared stories from the tour, and Ethan found himself hanging on her every word. As the night went on, they gravitated towards a quieter part of the garden, away from the main party.

--- --- ---

The moonlight cast a soft glow over the garden, creating an intimate atmosphere. Ethan and Y/N sat on a bench, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them. There was an undeniable chemistry, a magnetic pull that neither of them could ignore.

“So, what’s it like being on tour with your sister?” Ethan asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s amazing, but it can be exhausting,” Y/N admitted. “I love dancing and performing, but sometimes I just need a break, you know? That’s why I decided to come to this party. I needed to unwind and have some fun.”

“I’m glad you came,” Ethan said softly. “It’s been great getting to know you.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she looked at him. “I’m glad I came too. It’s nice to meet someone who sees me as more than just ‘Tate’s sister.’”

Ethan’s heart swelled at her words. He wanted to tell her how much he admired her, how her videos had brightened his days, but he hesitated, afraid of coming on too strong.

Instead, he reached out and gently took her hand. “I see you, Y/N. You’re incredible.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, and for a moment, they were lost in each other’s gaze. The world around them faded away, leaving just the two of them in that moonlit garden.

The tension between them was palpable, a heady mix of anticipation and desire. Ethan could feel his pulse quickening, his senses heightened. Y/N’s hand was warm in his, and the way she looked at him made his heart race.

Without thinking, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, tentative kiss. Y/N responded immediately, her lips moving against his with a hunger that matched his own. The kiss deepened, growing more passionate as they gave in to the emotions that had been building all day.

Ethan’s hands moved to Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer as their kiss intensified. Y/N’s fingers threaded through his hair, her touch sending shivers down his spine. They broke apart only long enough to catch their breath, their foreheads resting together as they smiled at each other.

“Ethan,” Y/N whispered, her voice filled with longing.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice husky with desire.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked, her eyes dark with intent.

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes,” he said without hesitation.

They quietly slipped away from the party, finding their way to a secluded part of the estate. The air was cool and fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers. They found a small gazebo, its privacy offering the perfect retreat.

Once inside, Ethan couldn’t keep his hands off Y/N. He kissed her deeply, his hands exploring the curves of her body. Y/N responded with equal fervor, her touch igniting a fire within him. They stumbled to the bench in the center of the gazebo, their kisses growing more urgent.

Ethan’s hands roamed under Y/N’s shirt, his fingers grazing her soft skin. She moaned into his mouth, her own hands tugging at his clothes. They quickly shed their garments, their need for each other overpowering any sense of decorum.

Ethan’s lips trailed down Y/N’s neck, savoring the taste of her skin. He took his time, worshiping her body with his mouth and hands. Y/N writhed beneath him, her breathy moans spurring him on. He wanted to memorize every inch of her, to make this moment unforgettable.

When he finally entered her, they both gasped at the sensation. They moved together in a rhythm that felt natural, their bodies perfectly in sync. The world around them ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them and the intense pleasure they shared.

Their movements grew more frantic, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Ethan could feel himself nearing the edge, and he could tell Y/N was close too. With one final thrust, they both tumbled over the edge, their cries of ecstasy filling the night air.

--- --- --- 

Ethan and Y/N lay together in the gazebo, their bodies entwined as they caught their breath. The cool night air felt refreshing against their heated skin. Ethan looked down at Y/N, her hair spread out like a halo, and he couldn't help but smile. She was even more beautiful in this moment, flushed and glowing from their shared experience.

"That was..." Ethan began, but words seemed inadequate to describe what he was feeling.

"Yeah," Y/N agreed, her voice soft and content. She snuggled closer to him, her head resting on his chest. "It was amazing."

Ethan gently stroked her hair, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. He never imagined that the girl he admired from afar would be lying in his arms, but here she was, and it felt right.

"Y/N," he said after a while, "I don't want this to be just a one-time thing."

Y/N lifted her head to look at him, her eyes searching his. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I want to see you again," Ethan confessed. "I want to get to know you even more, spend time with you. Not just here, but after the tour, too."

Y/N's expression softened, and she smiled. "I'd like that, Ethan. I'd like that a lot."

They shared another tender kiss, sealing their promise to each other. For the first time in a long while, Ethan felt a sense of contentment and hope for the future. He knew that their paths wouldn't always be easy, with Y/N's demanding tour schedule and his own commitments, but he was willing to make it work.

--- --- ---

The next morning, the party was winding down, and guests were starting to leave. Ethan and Y/N had reluctantly parted ways to avoid suspicion, but they exchanged knowing smiles whenever their paths crossed. As they prepared to leave, they made plans to meet up again soon.

Back at school, Ethan's friends immediately noticed a change in him. He was more cheerful and relaxed, a permanent smile on his face. It didn't take long for them to figure out the reason.

"So, Ethan," Mark said with a sly grin, "did you have a good time at the party?"

Ethan chuckled. "Yeah, you could say that."

Sarah nudged him playfully. "Come on, spill the details. We saw you with Y/N McRae."

Ethan's smile widened. "Let's just say it was a night to remember."

His friends cheered and patted him on the back, but Ethan's thoughts were already elsewhere. He couldn't wait to see Y/N again, to explore the connection they had discovered. It was more than just physical attraction—there was a genuine bond that had formed between them, and he was eager to see where it would lead.

--- --- ---

Over the next few weeks, Ethan and Y/N stayed in touch through texts and video calls. They shared their days, their dreams, and their struggles, growing closer with each conversation. Y/N confided in Ethan about the pressures of living in her sister's shadow and her own aspirations to break out as a solo performer. Ethan, in turn, opened up about his fears and ambitions, finding in Y/N a supportive and understanding confidante.

One evening, after a particularly long day of practice, Y/N called Ethan. She looked tired but happy, a smile lighting up her face when she saw him.

"Hey, Ethan," she greeted him. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," Ethan replied, his heart swelling with affection. "How was practice?"

"Exhausting, but worth it," Y/N said with a yawn. "We’re working on some new routines, and I can’t wait for you to see them."

"I’m sure they’ll be amazing," Ethan said. "You’re incredible, Y/N. Don’t ever forget that."

Y/N’s eyes softened. "Thank you, Ethan. Your support means everything to me."

They talked for hours, sharing stories and laughing until late into the night. Even though they were miles apart, they felt closer than ever. Their connection was growing stronger, built on mutual respect, admiration, and an undeniable spark that neither could ignore.

As the tour progressed, Ethan and Y/N counted down the days until they could see each other again. Finally, the tour brought Y/N back to their hometown for a concert, and Ethan couldn’t have been more excited.

On the night of the concert, Ethan arrived early, eager to watch Y/N perform. The energy in the arena was electric, and the crowd roared with excitement as Tate and her dancers took the stage. Ethan’s eyes were glued to Y/N, mesmerized by her movements and the sheer joy she exuded while dancing.

After the show, Ethan made his way backstage, his heart pounding with anticipation. Y/N spotted him and rushed over, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Ethan!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining with happiness. "I’m so glad you came!"

"I wouldn’t miss it for the world," Ethan replied, holding her close. "You were incredible out there."

"Thank you," Y/N said, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Come on, I want you to meet the rest of the crew."

Ethan spent the evening getting to know Y/N’s fellow dancers and the rest of the tour crew. They welcomed him warmly, and he quickly felt like part of the family. It was clear that Y/N was well-loved and respected by everyone, and Ethan couldn’t have been prouder.

As the night went on, Ethan and Y/N found a quiet corner to talk. They sat close together, their hands intertwined as they shared their thoughts and feelings.

"Ethan," Y/N said softly, "I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About what happens when the tour ends."

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I want us to be together," Y/N said, her eyes earnest. "I don’t want this to be just a fleeting thing. I want to make it work, no matter what."

Ethan squeezed her hand. "I feel the same way, Y/N. I’m willing to do whatever it takes."

Y/N smiled, relief and happiness washing over her. "Good. Because I’m not ready to let you go."

They shared a tender kiss, sealing their commitment to each other.

[phyrestartr]

HOUND | Miguel x M!Reader

Geneticist!Miguel x Guard!Reader Part 1 W/C: 2.5K | Part 1 of 2

Slight NSFW, zombie AU, apocalypse AU, mentions of exploitation and abuse, body horror, gore, immoral research and experiments, power imbalance, reader is a criminal, miguel is a scientist, dark themes, part 2 ends on a positive note, reader is morally grey, bottom!miguel, top!reader, sorry there's lore lol

Note: Wanted to post this bad boy in full, but the second half sorely needs some revising T-T It should be finished and up fairly soon, though! I hope this is ~intriguing~ for those who like darker stuff! Also I did a light edit on this part, but I really just want to get it out so lol sorry if things sound stupid/don't make sense asdjkf;l

--

There exists a cure.

That's what Alchemax declared. And it was the truth, just not the full truth. Not something the public would be happy with, anyway. 

The so-called "cure" was…unreliable, only recoding the RNA of select individuals for a reason that Alchemax's geneticists struggled to identify for the longest time. But after combing through the files of each expendable inmate and finding similarities, it became clear: those who'd been in the presence of nuclear energy, or high amounts of radiation, were suitable candidates for the vaccine. 

"Guess it's a good thing we didn't shut down those mines," Aaron had sneered at the board meeting. "Otherwise we wouldn't have the army of immune mutants running around for us." 

Miguel rolled his eyes. Sure, the idiot wasn't wrong, but he was taking it too far; plenty had died because of their experiments, and plenty more of the "immune" were sure to die with the unknown side effects of whatever the vaccine was bound to show in a matter of years (or in mere months, if they were unlucky). 

"It's a start," Miguel begrudgingly added. "But intentionally damaging civilian RNA with radiation, and then repairing it with S-2099, especially when we're not aware of any side effects yet? The UN won't have it. Can't imagine civilians would love it either." 

"Well, it's either get bit and die, stay afraid and die, or get painlessly exposed to a blast of radiation and then maybe die if 2099 doesn't fix them like we think," Liv offered with a shrug. "I, for one, would be honoured to die in the name of science." 

Miguel coolly looked over at her. "Thanks for volunteering." 

Liv's expression twisted. The energy in the room would've exploded if it hadn't been for Stone's interjection. 

"We will not be commencing civilian trials. Not until success rates increase with approved subjects provided by the state." The man spoke so steadily, so reasonably, like sacrificing the lives of orange jumpsuits meant nothing. 

They were dismissed soon after. Screens flickered out, holograms faded, and Miguel found himself alone with the other few scientists left at their Nueva York location. 

He stayed seated, vaguely aware of the others filtering out and murmuring amongst themselves, but his thoughts demanded his attention–he knew, even if the government didn't approve of essentially soft-nuking colonies of survivors, that Tyler Stone would find a way to do it, and would label it an accident. The man, his birth father, was ruthless, cold, calculated– 

"Sir?" A voice, your voice, cut through the silence. Miguel looked over his shoulder and found you still waiting, standing perfectly still by the door. 

"Sorry, I was just…" Miguel sighed and rubbed his face before standing. "Nevermind. Don't worry about it." 

Of course, you didn't say anything, instead nodding wordlessly and following your ward out of the room. Each step you took was punctuated by the shifting of your firearm against your thigh and the heavy thumps of your boots against the polished floors. Miguel used to hate your presence, think it unnecessary, but soon he grew to feel comfortable with you as his shadow. 

You, his powerful, mutant guard dog. 

"I can't fucking believe what this is turning into," Miguel muttered on the way to his quarters. "Too many unanswered questions, too many risks. And they don't care? We haven't even run further simulations yet–and we can run simulations with different alpha rays and different subject samples. It'd be harmless." The door hissed open and Miguel walked in, sorely wishing he could slam the door for once. Why did everything have to be automated? 

"In. Now," Miguel called when you stopped short of his residence. You obeyed, wandering inside before the door slid to a close behind you, and locked. 

You had reason to be nervous, Miguel knew that, too. Each key scientist in the building was assigned one of your kind, one of the immune mutants, and were free to do what they wanted with them. Sex, torture, chores–all of it was on the table. All of it had been asked of your kind. Done by your kind. Miguel figured that was why you kept a wall up. You hardly spoke, didn't request anything, never complained–all in an effort to keep the peace between you and your owner.

Miguel threw his white coat aside before stalking up to you. "Let me see," he mumbled as he held your jaw and tilted your head as he shone the light from his phone into your eye. 

Your pupils reacted at twice the speed of a normal human's, growing into the tiniest of pin pricks when the bright white flare assaulted your senses. Your eye twitched the slightest bit, but you remained still for Miguel. 

"Reactive. Not dead. That's good." He put his phone away, and examined the scarlet blotches contrasting against the natural hue of your iris. It was a relatively new side effect experienced by most of your batch, but you were amongst the more severe cases, if not the most severe case. Most of his peers didn't seem concerned by it, and Miguel could understand, seeing as it appeared to only be cosmetic, but the increased reactivity of your pupil accompanied with the bloody colour intrigued Miguel enough to keep tabs on it. 

"Any changes lately? To appetite, sleep, anything?" He asked as he let go of your jaw, nearly smiling as you tried to follow his touch for a moment longer like a sleepy cat. "Maybe neediness?" Miguel teased. 

You huffed lightly through your nose and looked around the main room of Miguel's living space. "Tired, I guess." 

Miguel's nerves smoothed with the sandpaper scratch of your voice. "Tired. Might be the anemia again. We'll draw blood tomorrow, see if you need supplements or another infusion." Miguel found himself mumbling now, going on about your health and your changes, wondering out loud what the best course of action would be to help you adjust to whatever was happening to your body, but you didn't say anything. You never did unless provoked. 

Miguel decided to provoke. He needed to speak, to be spoken to, to hear someone else’s voice right now. "What do you think about all this?" He called from the bathroom after washing up for the night. He poked his head out a moment later when you didn’t comment. 

“I know you were listening,” he prodded again over the toothbrush jammed into the side of his mouth. “The other ones don’t, but you do. I can tell by that look you get.” he waited for you to respond while he brushed his teeth, but you didn’t. You hadn’t moved from your post by his front door, actually, stood against the wall, arms crossed and staring forward like you were listening to everything beyond the door. Miguel wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen you sit down. He didn’t know if you’d ever laid down before. 

After he finished washing up for the night, he decided to try again. 

“You really gonna keep me in the dark?” Miguel asked as he walked up to you, arms crossed as well. He couldn’t help but feel smaller and smaller the longer he waited in silence, waited to hear your gravelled voice. He couldn’t grasp why he was so desperate for a friend suddenly, but he was. He really was, and he wasn’t finding it in you. 

“Forget it. Doesn’t matter anyway,” Miguel mumbled, turning away from you and rubbing his face tiredly. 

“Don't have much of an opinion.”

“What?” Miguel turned back around, brows raised as he waited for you to continue. Your gaze peeled from the ceiling and fell to him, like you were waiting for a reprimand of sorts, but Miguel wouldn’t, not when he tried so hard to get a peep out of you.

You shrugged and looked elsewhere. “Don't care what happens to civilians. Not my problem.” 

“It's the world's problem,” Miguel suggested. He didn't want to start an argument, but he didn't want you to feel so blasé about the fate of everything. “The more civilians that get infected, the more the world loses.” 

“Thought that was a good thing. Last I heard, the world was pretty overpopulated.” You said it so easily. Miguel would have shrugged it off if he didn't know about the blood on your hands, the crimes you'd committed, the evidence that you really, truly, did not give a shit about humanity. 

Miguel scoffed, a bitter, bewildered sort of thing. “Y'know, I used to pity you for this,” he started, gesturing to the soldiered-out state of yourself, “but you might be less human than those things out there.” 

“Probably.” 

“You don't even care,” Miguel laughed again. “Did you care when you killed that family?” 

“An eye for an eye,” you replied. 

“Right, right. Then what about your daughter? Did you care when–” the world spun before his back cracked against the wall. He grabbed your wrist and squeezed when your hands fisted in his shirt, ready to trigger your kill switch with one click of a button on his ring, but he didn't need to; you simply held him there, boring holes into his skull with your diamond-tipped stare. 

“You jokers don't know when to quit,” you said. “Always have to drag a kid into the equation, ‘n then act so fucking shocked when you end up dead ‘cause of it.” A sigh slipped past your lips as you leaned in. Miguel wanted to meet you halfway. “Fuckers like you make murderers out of men like me.”

Oh. The violence rippling through your crackling voice went straight down, into the pit below Miguel's stomach and coiled into something frightfully decadent. He wanted your hands around his neck. He wanted you to mutter more threats into his ear. He wanted–

He wanted you. 

“Let me touch you,” Miguel blurted. “Your skin.” You gave a reaction then, eyes blinking away shock and throat clearing with a strangled grunt, but you didn’t say no. You didn’t reject him. In fact, you looked him up and down in question, curiosity peeking through piercing eyes. 

“You're a deranged fuck, aren't you? Getting all hot ‘n bothered from a threat.” You reached for the straps of your kevlar vest, then, and Miguel’s nerves jolted with the sound of the buckles clicking loose. 

He scrambled to you and held your hands. He wanted to do it himself, to unwrap your bindings and see what laid beneath. Your hands fell, and Miguel took over. 

The warmth bleeding from your clothes intoxicated him. He fumbled with your gear, eager to get to the base of your tight, black shirt and rip it off, but you didn’t try to take over for him–you watched, patient like a dog, letting your master doff your armour at his leisure (or, rather, his frantic, desperate pace). Miguel appreciated it. He wondered if you knew he'd snap if you tried to interfere. 

Soon, your chest was bare. Exposed for him, dotted with memories of cruel bites, bullets, knives and surgical scars all over taught, humming skin. Man shouldn’t be allowed to touch you, Miguel thought. The imperfections were so gloriously human. You were so perfectly alive, standing here with him, breathing, emanating heat, allowing him to do what he pleased–he was the luckiest man on Earth. 

Miguel couldn’t look you in the eyes as his broad palm pressed against your chest, right over the rhythm of your soul. His pants strained and tightened more as his touch wandered through the valleys of firm muscle; what did the rest of you look like? What did you look like when you fought, or when you fucked? 

His hand slipped down to the tight adonis belt cinching your waist, and then lower, following the trail of fine hair disappearing beneath the waistband peeking above your cargos. The bunching and folding of thick material melted Miguel's mind in a vat of suggestion and insatiability–were you really that big, or was that fabric just making it an illusion? 

He didn't need to wait to find out, though, not when you guided his hand down over the very real curve of your goods packed away. And, yes, you were big. Miguel's eyes snapped up to yours. A smug look greeted him.

“Looked like you needed some encouragement.”

Miguel might have laughed if his heart weren't suffocating him, climbing up his throat. Your clothed cock under his hand was ruining his cognitive functions too, to be fair. 

His fingers, long, clumsy things, hurried at your buttons and the zipper keeping everything in check. Miguel's ears filled with the rhythmic drumming of desire when he finally got the damn thing undone, but you grabbed his wrist. You stopped him. 

Miguel scoffed out a held breath and tried to wrench free, but your grip held firm. “You can't back out after–” But when he looked at you, he froze still; your expression electrified the senses, the slightest narrowing and shifting of uneasy eyes freezing Miguel colder and colder by the second. 

“Bathroom. Now.” You popped just one of those buttons back into place before turning to the door. 

“Wh–” But you shoved him, hard, and sent him stumbling into the sterile white space as explosive carnage rippled through the room in his wake. The thing collided into you seconds after you'd gotten your charge out of the blast zone. 

It was big. A mass of human features and flesh and maybe something else weighing on a hulking frame. You barked a name, maybe the name of one of your fellow watch dogs, but it didn't change the thing's trajectory as it tore towards Miguel on all fours like a hound out of hell.

But you were quicker. You grabbed it by the nape and ripped it off its warpath with too much effort, just narrowly avoiding it barreling into the attached room by seconds. Its momentum, forced toward the wall, threw it into a dizzied tantrum; limbs flailed, mouths gnashed, and a symphony of mismatched voices wailed from their putrid prison. 

Miguel's body locked. What ifs plagued him, suddenly. If it got him. If it bit him. If you hadn't been there. What if–

“Close the damn door,” you demanded, and your voice sounded a bit shaky, too. Miguel looked at your broad back as you stood bravely in the way of the beast and its target. “Doctor–” 

“I–but you–?” Miguel stumbled and choked on his words and his reasoning. He didn't want you to fight. He didn't want to die. He didn't want you to die. Miguel hit the button to make it closed, but the door stalled halfway.

“Fuck it.” Barbs burst from your fingertips and dug into the door, forcing it to bend to your will and close. Miguel didn't like how you disappeared inch by inch. He didn't like seeing that thing behind you get up. He didn't like that look you gave him just before the door snapped shut. 

The next few minutes passed like years.

[herebecritters]

I’ve got a ton of lore writings in the works and there’s a lot of little terms used by treefolk and by the trio. So here’s a handy guide in case anyone needs it.

THIS IS A LIVING DOCUMENT. There are sure to be edits and additions as time goes on.

Timeline

Dino-Sore Days

Period of time at the End of the Cretaceous Period before the meteor hit and the Death Curse began.

First Civilization

Period of time directly after the Meteor Strike and the Isles were formed. Cities built around the new Gods. Ends in extermination.

300 Year Colony

Period of time 66 million years after First Civilizations eradication. Years 1698 to 1998. Ends in extermination.

Current Era

Modern HTF as we know it.

Common knowledge

(Terms that most treefolks on the Isles will be familiar with)

The Isles: Also known as “The Isles of Da-rí-šè”, is a lush, multi-biomed cluster of islands hidden in the middle of the ocean and encompassed by a 66million year old Immortality Curse.

Critters/Treefolk: Sentient inhabitants of the world. Anthromorphic animals. Or “People” for lack of a better term.

Simple Beasts: Animals and creatures that live in the world who are not anthropomorphic characters. Pets, wildlife, ect.

Death Curse: The never ending loop of dying and regeneration experienced only within The Isles.

Blacking out: The sensation of losing consciousness and being unable to recall the specification of one’s own death on the Isles.

Death Hangover: The feeling one experiences when waking up alive after a death. Feelings of mental haze, disassociation, and a slight queasiness. Like you woke from a nightmare that you know you had but can’t seem to recall the details of it.

the Outside world/the real world/back home: No official word for this but many Treefolk tend to refer to the world and and their old life outside the Isles from time to time. As distant and far away as it now may seem to them…

Perma’d: the state of being dead without revival. Permanently dead.

Trio Terms

(Terms used among the trio or during the time of First Civilization and before.)

Holidays

(Holidays Celebrated during the First Civilization Era and still regarded by the Trio in private)

Day of Two Suns: New Year for the Critters of the First Civilization. Anniversary and Celebration of the day that the chixulub meteor hit the earth and ended the reign of the “Titans”. Transition from Spring into Summer.

Festival of Shedding: Summer into Autumn harvest festival and feast.

Nesting Day: Preparation of Autumn to Winter. Preparing the nest of Ki for the colder months.

Festival of Frogs: Winter into Spring festival when the frogs come out of hibernation.

Union: Solar Eclipse celebration

Bleeding Night: Lunar Eclipse Ritual to revive Theia from death with a chosen sacrifice.

Theology and Myths

Theia: The moon; deity of the Night and watcher of the small folk and critters.

Sâmâs: The Sun; deity of the Day

Ki: The Earth; Child of Theia and Sâmâs, asleep in the core of the planet.

Alagtila: The Idol of Life

Alagkana: The Idol of Misfortune

Alagumuna: The Idol of Blood

Dingirtila: Formal Title for the God of Life

Dingirkana: Formal Title for the God of Misfortune

Dingirumuna: Formal Title for the God of Blood

Egalkana: Temple of Misfortune

Egaltila: Temple of Life

Egalumuna: Temple of Blood

Mushhush: The name of Nergals monster form

Umamumurgu: Ancient beast of Rage and Fire sent by Sâmâs to protect the children of Theia from the Titans.

The World of the Curse

The Blood: Concentrated Suffering in the form of blood. Gives the idols their power.

The Wells: Underground rivers and lakes where the Blood is held. How full they are determines the amount of power the idols have.

Burrows: Series of tunnels deep below the Isles leading to the wells and to the Trios private chambers.

Hibernation: State of stasis where the trio can go long periods of time of inactivity to conserve Blood.

Ludari: “The Eternal People” The term used to describe the people who lived during the First Civilization before the Rebellion.

Lukurra: “Outsiders” Those who are not one of the three Idols. This term replaced Ludari after the rebellion.

Titans: The dinosaurs, pterosaurs, plesiosaurs, mosasaurs and other giant reptiles that went extinct after the meteorite hit.

Bonus

[tues-dayy]

It took way too long, but I finally settled on how I want to draw the Groovatronians. Glad I did because they're some of my favorite characters in the episode.

More thoughts on these characters and Groovatronians below!:

For the Groovitronian look, I was inspired mostly by crystals (because of all the glass, so much glass) and also by the strata visible in rocks [example below]. The colors come from the lighting and make-up of the episode, mostly.

In the episode, Groovatron V and the Groovatronians are characterized by their 'sexiness' and 'danger.' I did my best to try and put those elements into their designs.

The crystals growing from their skin grow to sharp points naturally, though most Groovatronians sharpen them for appearances. The sharper the crystals, the more alluring they are. Clothes typically do not cover the shoulders because that is where crystals commonly emerge. Crystals may also grow on the back of hands, back of the calves, and on the lower back. The crystals on their heads are seen on most Groovatronians, it's a sign of illness and extreme deficiencies if the crystals never begin to grow in childhood. The amount of crystals tends to be two, but it's not unheard of for some to be born with more or just the one. The length of these crystals varies; longer crystals are associated with the higher ranking Groovatronians and shorter crystals with the majority of the population.

Groovatronian ears are highly-sensitive, sometimes to a painful degree. To combat the pain, the Groovatronians have made ear coverings that help protect the most sensitive of ears. With how common they are, they are decorated and personalized. It keeps with how most Groovatronians like to decorate themselves with gold, considering that it's a commonly found metal.

Claire and Trisha are half-Groovatronian (via their mother's side) and half-Bajoran (via their father's side). The two of them were raised on a federation colony (unnamed so far) and lived fairly normal, intertwined lives. Their father was a federation scientist, though he died early in their childhood (around 8 or so). They were raised by their mother (a civilian nurse) who did her best to raise them Groovatronian, despite being so far from Groovatron V.

Claire had always had dreams of space travel and she dedicated herself to getting into the academy. When she eventually left for Earth to attend the campus in San Francisco, Trisha and their mother went back to Groovatron V. On Earth, Claire stayed with family members from her father's side that worked in the area which eventually led her to being more immersed in her Bajoran heritage than her sister. The distance meant for sparse conversation between Claire and Trisha and a slight loosening of their bond.

Eventually, Claire graduated and she got a position on the Harmony. Around the same time, coincidentally, Trisha got her first job as an intern.

The differences in Claire and Trisha's markings, despite they fact that they are identical twins, is the same thing that happens with freckles on identical twins. The layout of things like freckles and moles (and thus the twins' markings) aren't embedded in your dna.

The crystal colors is a matter of varying environments. Claire was far from Groovatron V while Trisha was right in that environment, so the colors of their crystals (while the same general color) are different in saturation and brightness. The stress experienced throughout the academy and then on the Harmony doesn't help the color either.

A little edit of the Claire & Trisha art because the quote (from Amber Fossey) makes me think of them too much.

[fruitiestsyrup]

I feel it must be stressed, again, that understanding the actions of Hamas in response to continued Israeli aggression over the 15 years Gaza has been treated like an open-air prison--and going back further than that the systematic displacement and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians starting in 1880 with the purchases of land from absentee Ottoman landlords that those Palestinians were forced to vacate--is not the same as condoning them. Unrestrained violence against a population's civilians is absolutely not worthy of support or solidarity, regardless of who is engaging in it. It is part of the playbook of settler colonialism that innocents are put on the front line against any retaliatory violence executed out of desperation such that disproportionate violence can be justified in response to it.

But Hamas are not heroic. They're not freedom fighters. They're not soldiers of light. They are a gang of thugs running an open-air prison who massacred the other political blocs in Gaza after Israel signal boosted them, because of course using the US strategy of funding religious extremists to remove leftist opposition didn't work, as usual. They are holocaust deniers, they disseminate the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, they deliberately conflate Jewish identity with Israeli identity to justify total extermination of that religious bloc, they're vehemently anti-LGBT. They are not good people.

Now that I've said the obvious, I feel it should also be mentioned that a lot of shit that Israeli news orgs have spat out about Hamas' treatment of civilians is false. Do not fall for the beheading babies shit. Shani Louk is alive, if in critical condition with a traumatic brain injury and is being looked after in a Gazan hospital. From a lot of the reports, it appears that Hamas did not, at all, expect this kind of lacking resistance from the IDF (because of course Netanhayu moved a bunch of soldiers from the South to go oppress the West Bank some more even after being told that this would happen), and so they've penetrated much further into Israel than they intended and are now terrified of the level of reprisal that might be levelled in response. The foreign nationals were likely initially mistaken for Israelis, and when Hamas checked, they realised that they were wrong and they've been moved away from the front lines as hostages for leverage. They have threatened to start shooting hostages but given such an act would be an utter death sentence for them with no hope at all of any mercy, no matter how slight, I sincerely doubt that is the case.

You need to understand though that the murder and abuse (this is not, specifically, rape, considering that this has not yet been confirmed) of Israeli citizens is the logical conclusion of treating an entire population like animals: they lash out like cornered animals desperately. They are people, and people driven to desperation will do horrible, terrible things.

I can't condone it, but I do understand it.

Edit: and if you're going to come onto this post and talk about how decolonisation is always violent I am going to boot you into the fucking sun. No, it's not, have you heard of the Land Back Advocates for the Native Americans who are the end state of what this treatment of the Palestinians will result in?

[thallium81]

I just made an accidental discovery about the Russian version of the Vrungel book and my head is whirling. Back when I read the English translation from 1981, I thought to myself, “For a globe-trotting book written in the 30’s, it’s only slightly racist instead of being really racist!”

Well, today I was looking up the official illustrations made by one of the main artists of the cartoon for one edition of the book which I found on a website that posted the whole book’s text in Russian. As I was scrolling through the pictures, I saw a few that I couldn’t recognize as being based on any text, so I used Google Translate to see if there was more text that wasn’t included in the English version.

Sure enough, the Russian version has two extra chapters taking place after the Hawaii and Brazil stops where Vrungel, Lom, and Fuchs go to Australia and meet Admiral Kusaki there.

I hope you’re sitting down, cause what I’m about to write is gonna sound insane, and Google Translate isn’t 100% accurate, but one of Kusaki’s schemes is to dress up in blackface, call himself “Uncle Tom”, and call Vrungel “master”, and Vrungel exposes him by making his makeup melt in the sun during a game of golf.

Now, this whole thing is clearly portraying Kusaki as being an absolute fucking moron, and Vrungel reiterates his previous opinion from when he was talking about the Italian fascists that imperialism is bad. Still, it’s just… so much…

Oh, but that’s not all! Afterwards, Vrungel, Lom, and Fuchs met up with some Aboriginal Australians (whom the book refers to as being black because I don’t think people back then made a distinction), and lemme tell ya, the illustrations that go along with this section are grotesque, but to my slight relief it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. First, Vrungel meets an Aboriginal man dressed up very stereotypically in a museum, and they have a chat where the man states that he’s educated, but it’s hard for him to get good-paying work and so he dresses up in the part of a “savage”. Then, later that night, Vrungel sees Lom sitting at a campfire with some Aboriginals and assumes they’re cannibals, but it was a misunderstanding, Lom was just having a pleasant conversation with them.

So basically, I can see why these sections were taken out for the English translation, and they didn’t even do much for the plot anyway except to further solidify Kusaki as the villain, although to the book’s credit, it was probably fairly progressive-ish for the 30’s or whenever it was written, doing the bare minimum of saying that colonialism is bad. Those drawings absolutely didn’t help, they make things look so much worse.

Side note, reading this version of the book might have answered a question I had while reading the English translation. The original Russian version was first written in 1937 and finished in 1939, but the section with Banditto has Vrungel make an indirect reference to Benito Mussolini’s death by hanging which happened in the 40’s, which left me quite confused. I believe now that both the English translation and the Russian version I read today were a later edition of the book that changed some things, because the latter version also included an extra part at the very end going “Hey for this new edition Captain Vrungel wants me to include definitions for the nautical terminology for all you landlubbers”. Just thought I’d mention that.

[evilrat-sabre]

For CTT, I have SO MANY QUESTIONS!!!

how did tango learn to consider himself a monster?

His subspecies description says that his type of false spine doesn't kill their host, but rather finds an already dead body, how did the body die?

From what I gather, false spines are fairly solitary. Does tango even know his species? If so, how? What does he know?

Ohhh keep asking I am all here for it!

I will respond to this a little out of order if you permit me.

At first I just wanted to note, that I am very bad at updating my notes lol, so some things I said In earlier posts may be debunked in the future(I have a lot of things planned, but as this is an AU, new ideas sometimes come and I find them better than old ones)

When I say that the False-Spine spine doesn't kill their host, this is a big exaggeration of the word "kill", because well yes they first find a dead body, but they carry the zombie virus, So they kinda of kill entire civilizations, without direct Killing it. Then they just feast in the bodies and Live in the one they find most comfortable.

(One thing that I have to do, but I can only do in a computer and always forget, is slightly edit that text that talks about the False-Spine, It was very early in the brain rot that I wrote it, and I feel like it doesn't reflect the entire scope of the species now)

Are the False-Spine spine a solitary species? I think you can say that yes. When an infestation of False-Spine happens, normally it starts with two or three False-spines, but they don't act in colony like let me say bees, they just get together for procreation purposes and then leave to do their own things, AK. Eat, sleep and repeat (Like hamsters)

Did Tango ever met another False-Spine? Thank god no. The next thing I am gonna say is a slight spoiler for chapter 4 so be aware.

SPOILER FOR CHAPTER 4 STARTES HERE (I will put a note where it ends)

As I said this is something that will be revealed in CTT Chapter 4 (That I am writing for more than 1 month at this point and getting slightly crazed because it doesn't end It's almost done all I need to do is write the last pov)

False-Spine are a terrifying mob because the way they transform players in Zombies as a way of gathering food is by scrambling the player code, fucking with it and doing Irreparable damage to them.

Tango may be a False-spine, but He is a player nonetheless, The False-Spine are not an intelligent mob at all, the first thing a wild nom player False-spine would do meeting Tango is looking direct at his code(the equivalent of his soul) and then straight up try to kill him.

SPOILER FOR CHAPTER 4 END HERE

The only information Tango has of his own species are reports from other people, and it doesn't paint a good picture at all.

Okay now for the last one

How did Tango learn to consider himself a monster?

Ohh this is a fun one.

Before I start Talking about this, I just want to say: I pretend to write a one shot about this in the future, but as I don't have anything written or even a date to start writing, I will not mark this as spoilers.

In my master post I mentioned that Tango spent a lot of time in single player worlds trying to learn how to be a player, but what I evade to say is what happened before this.

Tango Spawned in a residential World

(quick world building: A residential world is a multiplayer world where players live in groups like you would in a city in real life)

Tango Spawned in an era where the Nom-Human player movements in search for equality are all time big and this makes those that are more vocal about their bigotry against their existence become even more aggressive.

One thing I have to mention too is that players live a fucking long time, like a lot. So all of this happened a long time ago and don't reflect anymore with widespread view in the regular hubs, nowadays nom-humans make 80% of the population, but it was not the case when Tango first came to be.

So Tango first had to adapt to being a freshly spawned player in a world that is very vocal against his existence and as his spawn is practically a glitch by the way he spawned. He spawned in a no spawn world, It was not supposed to players spawn there at all (just be born, because there is no great code fix for it), so because of that he became homeless for some time, until someone (A bug hybrid AK. The only oc I dared make for CTT) took pity on him and put him inside her house and taught him about what being a Bug player means, their sounds, their greetings. (Even if Tango isn't the same as her, she adopted him in her culture), she too is the one who taught him how to do make up, and how to hide (because it was needed to survive).

Basically he first had contact with someone that is a Bug player and is proud of what she is. So how did he come to hate himself? Well, she died. They were attacked and she died protecting him. It is after this that he goes to his single player words, where he internalized the guilty, the anger, and without someone to talk he put it all in himself, because if they were normal human players, she would be alive and he would not be alone. So he learns how to be human, how to hide and how to lie. And when he goes back to the multiplayer scenario, no one knows what he really is and he prefers it that way.

And I think this is all for now! Thx for asking and engaging with brain rot!

[i-am-beckyu]

I posted 534 times in 2022

That's 534 more posts than 2021!

108 posts created (20%)

426 posts reblogged (80%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@brick-a-doodle-do

@orchid-harmony

@squishys-soft-stories

@colossal-red

@poprockpanda

I tagged 169 of my posts in 2022

#nmw - 42 posts

#mcyt g/t - 28 posts

#mcyt gt - 21 posts

#g/t - 19 posts

#g/t community - 15 posts

#beckyu answers - 14 posts

#beckyu arts - 13 posts

#gt community - 13 posts

#brick my beloved <3 - 13 posts

#gt inktober - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 132 characters

#i have literally never tired art in this style nor in g/t so i'm actually flippen proud of myself for how well this came out asdfghj

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Don’t forget to mention that...

Well I never expected this to be the first finished bit of writing I posted here. I promise I’m still writing that other one I’ve hinted at, I just want it to be perfect!! I actually wrote this back in August and was re-reading it and thought: huh its not bad so edited it a bit and here we are. (this is literally the 2nd fanfic I’ve ever written as well as g/t piece and I haven’t even finished the first so please be kind qwq)  This was inspired by an artwork that @dingbatnix created! Original post here  I hope you like it ❤️

cw: mcyt g/t, soft, slight panic, mention of death man I hope that’s right

word count:  2375

“A nap in the sun would be nice right about now.” George said as he made his way to the top of a big red toadstool. Winter was fast approaching and the time for napping in the sun would soon be over while the cold months of snow and ice overtake the world. George didn’t mind the thought of snow though. I mean, when you’re 2 inches tall, snow isn’t exactly your friend when even a light powder can have you buried and frozen alive. It was going to be tougher to find food and shelter soon too. Part of him wishes he hadn’t left the colony; that he had stayed with his own kind rather than travel the vast world. But he had lost his parents long ago and had never made any real friends back home, so what real attachment did he have in staying? So George had instead chosen a life of adventure. He’d been wandering the forest and plains for a few years now. Learning about its hidden wonders and knowledge unknown. While he wasn’t exactly born for magic, he had certainly picked up the odd spell or two. He had once befriended a size-shifting fire-born demon named Sapnap, that he had spent the winters with in the past and learnt some basic spells anyone with enough practice could use. Although he had never actually seen his friend's bigger form, he missed Sapnap dearly. He had left to go meet with an old friend of his for a while and George had decided he wanted to continue to explore. But whilst George was curious and loved discovering new things, he tended to stay away from anything larger than a bush. Or if he was being more specific; Humans. When you live in a world that’s 100x bigger than you, sentient beings 100x bigger with it are terrifying. He’d seen the destruction beings of such caliber could cause. If they wanted to, they could tear through trees with massive iron blades, light fires and cause havoc in an instant. But at worst? They’d stamp out life in a heartbeat. And while you think they may only be stories told to young children to keep them within the safety of the colony walls, George had seen it first hand. His parents had hidden him in a small grotto before leading the monsters away. And because of that, he’d never actually encountered a human in person. That was definitely something he could be grateful for. He’d only seen a little of what had happened to his parents before they had passed and he had opted to drown out the sounds of destruction rather than watch it in horror. Who knew it would be the last time he would ever see them. He missed them dearly but was thankful that in all his time traveling, he’d never seen a human and hopefully never would. Hope might have been an understatement….

George placed his little toadstool hat to the side of him as he removed his satchel from over his shoulder. He brushed over it lightly, a small smile gracing his face as he reminisced in fondness. He had fought with Sapnap over how to do smaller stitches rather than big uneven ones that left room for holes, rambling on how his attention to detail was just George being picky similar to his other friend. George then smoothed out his moss cloak to lie on and laid back onto the toadstool, resting on his back using one hand to cushion his head. His other hand fiddling idly  with his light blue shirt. He adjusted his white rimmed goggles on his face with delicate care and closed his eyes as the warmth of the evening sun shone upon him. It’s ray’s practically dancing along his skin as it warmed each cell of his very being. It was nice. On rare occasions he would find himself being able to enjoy the sun like this. Too often this world was out to get him and yet somehow he would find the odd times that he could let himself drift away in bliss. Drift away…. Maybe to sleep? Yeah, that sounded nice. 

George continued to keep his eyes closed and began to focus on the sounds around him. Despite his loud and rowdy personality, Sapnap had shown him how to enjoy moments like these. He missed him dearly. Perhaps their paths would cross again during the winter? It was unlikely since he could size shift and had said his friend traveled around a lot, but George was happy for him. A small part of George wished he had stayed with him. Sapnap had even offered for George to accompany him and meet his friend, always saying how he thought they would get along so well and how much he knew they would just love George. But the fact that Sapnap was a size shifter implied that his friend was also one and that scared George. He wasn’t ready for that no matter how much Sapnap insisted that they wouldn’t harm him. George shook away those thoughts for now though, because he was going to drift away. Just for a bit… 

The sounds of rustling leaves in the breeze began to get fainter as George felt himself lulling off to sleep, the sun continuing to blanket him in its warmth. He was almost asleep when he suddenly felt the surface beneath him move. ‘Probably the wind’ he thought. Then it moved again. ‘Okay maybe there’s a deer nearby. That’s ok.’ And again. George opened his eyes slowly. “So close to a nap” he grumbled. The toadstool shook again. George’s mind quickly came back to reality. He could hear the steady sound of massive footsteps approaching as his world began to shake over and over. “Ok, maybe not a deer.” George said out loud as he slung his satchel back on and his hat. Whatever was coming was big and that was never good. The footsteps continued to come closer and the shaking worsened. The steps were timed and even, something that animals rarely did. Whatever this was wasn’t an animal. “Oh no.” George said as the realization dawned on him. “Please don’t be that. Oh please anything but that.”

George raced to slide off the top of the toadstool. He was practically exposed if he didn’t get off there fast enough! He managed to make it off the top and landed to the ground with a thud as the sound of tree branches parted. The sound of footsteps ceased right in front of where George was hidden beneath the toadstool. Not a single sound followed. Carefully, George peered his head around the side of the Toadstool and let out a small gasp. In front of him mere inches away was a giant boot. Starring up and up at the giant being before him was his worst nightmare. A human. The man wore a bright green hoodie, blonde hair just in view peeking out from behind a white smiley face mask that covered most of his face from view. But the most terrifying thing about this being was the black shiny purple axe he held in his hand. He’d seen weapons like that before. It was an enchanted netherite axe: one of the most dangerous weapons in existence, and it was held by a human. 

“Hello? Is someone there?” It said.

George slapped himself in the face as he clasped his hands over his mouth. What a fool he was. He was trapped with the only cover being the toadstool. The next closest cover was too far away to run too without being exposed and even if he ran, the human would probably reach him within seconds. He stayed perfectly still. It felt as if he moved even slightly the toadstool would disappear and he’d be discovered. The human had yet to move. George could only imagine it was scanning the area searching for something. Someone. Him. Carefully he peered out from under the toadstool, trying to get a better idea of what the human was doing. Said human had its back turned to where George was and as predicted was scanning the area looking and listening intently. He watched as the human turned its head slowly as it scanned the area once more. As it began to get closer to looking in his direction, George ducked back out of view. His breathing picked up a little as he did so but he focused on the matter at hand. There’s no way the human saw him right? Right?!? Without warning, the toadstool was suddenly yanked up out of the ground and into the air. George shrieked, eyes wide as his only cover was ripped away leaving him completely exposed and at the mercy of the human. The human and George suddenly fell deathly still, shocked by each other’s presence. Even though the human wore a mask, George could still feel the human's eyes burning a hole through his soul. It had found him. What was he going to do now?

“Wow.” The human whispered in amazement. “Look at you.” Well George didn’t care how amazed the human sounded, his words were enough to snap him out of his frozen state and make a dash for cover. “WAIT! NO! Come back!” The human yelled as he suddenly made a move for him. George ran for the closest bush he could find. He didn’t care where he hid, anything was better than being in the open at the humans mercy. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it far before a large hand gripped itself around his body. He wasn’t held overly tight but it still felt suffocating. It was too warm, too big, too strong! All it would take is one good squeeze and the human could pop George’s head off! 

George tried kicking and thrashing in the Humans hand. His arms were pinned to his body so he was limited but anything was better than nothing in hopes of getting the human to let him go. He felt gravity shift as the human lifted him up higher and higher from the ground. Sapnap had tried to take him flying on a bird once and he had not enjoyed it being up so high. Finally, the grasp loosened around George and he found himself sitting cupped in both the humans massive hands. The human still wore the mask but while he couldn’t make out the human's eyes, he now felt as if it was studying him over. Taking in every last detail of his appearance and it was terrifying. “You’re actually real.” The human said as he poked him with a finger. George hugged his legs to his chest and curled in on himself, willing himself to just disappear. “Please let me go.” He whispered out. He could feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to meet the same gruesome fate his parents had. Maybe if he was obedient it would show him mercy? “I’ll do whatever you want, please just let me go!

“Hurt you?? Oh no, is that what you think I’m going to do?” The human said the sound of disbelief coating his voice. “I just can’t believe you’re actually real. I thought all this time he was just making you up.” George dared to open his eyes. The human still had its mask on but somehow he looked calmer, gentler. “But still, he never said just how small you were. You barely even fit in the palm of my hand.” 

Now it was George’s turn to be in a state of disbelief. This human was speaking as if it knew George but couldn’t believe he existed. That someone had told him about himself. “What do you mean ‘He’ was making me up? Who on earth are you talking about??” George asked. “Oh Sapnap did. He kept going on about how he met this tiny person called George and that you used to live together.” The human replied. “He always goes on about how much we’d get along and how much I’d like you.”

Sapnap? SAPNAP?!?! This was the friend he was always talking about?!?!?! A human friend. How had Sapnap failed to mention the one most important detail that his friend was a human? Sure he’d said that his friend wouldn’t hurt him but never once had he mentioned or implied that his friend was Human. George began to fume. “I’m going to murder him first chance I get!” George yelled. “He never said you were a human! He always said the same thing to me too about how great you were and that we could be like some dumb Dream Team!” George said steaming.

“Really? I rather like the name Dream Team.” The human said, laughing a bit at the end. “Then again, I’m biased with my name literally being Dream.”

“Wait, your name is Dream???” George said as he stared up at Dream, the apparent human. “Wait he didn’t tell you my name? Oh Sapnap’s an idiot I swear.” George laughed in response. “Oh don’t I know it.” They both laughed for a bit at the dumbness of their friend. “Well it’s nice to meet you then Dream. I’m George, but I’m guessing you already knew that huh?” George said as he began to relax. Dream shifted George into his left hand as he grabbed his mask with the right and lifted his mask. A face dotted with Freckles adorned with a mischievous grin and bright green eyes looked back into his own brown and blue eyes. “Yeah I knew and man I’m gonna mess around with Sapnap for not telling you more about me when we get back.” Dream said as he turned and started to make his way out of the Forest.

And as the two trekked back to where Dream and Sapnap had set up camp, George couldn’t help but be at ease. Even though Dream was a human, he couldn’t help but feel safe in the human's grasp thanks to Sapnap and all those stories he had shared. Even if he’s never told him once that his friend was a human, he knew he could trust Sapnap and that was enough. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I actually finished a story. I never thought this day would come T-T. I really hope everyone enjoyed this it was a lot of fun to write and I’m glad I did get around to finishing it. Thank you @squishys-soft-stories for reading the draft ❤️ Stay tuned for the first fic I’ve been writing tho!!! I’m dying at not just sharing it now but its not far off being done!! I promise its going to be worth the wait! Thanks all again if you read to the end ❤️❤️❤️

60 notes - Posted October 30, 2022

#4

Crimeboys it is.

And would you know it, it be a fluffy Crimeboys prompt with an instinct driven Giant Wilbur and a human Gremlin Tommy.

The prompt starts with Wilbur not letting Tommy go as he woke up with instinct begging for him to take Tommy everywhere he goes.

Tommy tries to bite Wilbur's fingers so he can put him down but Wilbur ain't buggin anytime soon.

Anywhere Wilbur goes, Tommy is right there since Wilbur isn't letting him go.

Like you can have Wilbur be at work and he still brings Tommy with him as an example.

Just make it as fluffy as you can, you can add anything you want.

If you're up to make this prompt then pog, that is if you want to do it.

Also, if you wanna send me a random g/t prompt that u have, go for it.

Quack

This has been in my inbox since I joined Tumblr.

Orchid gorgeous!!!!!!!!! I've rewritten this twice!!!! It took me awhile as I got stuck at one point BUT! I had a new idea today so while its short, I'm very happy with it! I hope I did the prompt justice and you like it!!!

Mine to hold close

cw: mcyt g/t , soft, fluffy, tiny tiny death mention. Words: 607 [One shot]

“Can you put me down you prick?! I’m not gonna freeze I swear!!!” Tommy said with huff as Wilbur scooped him up.

“After the last time it snowed? I don’t think so.” Wilbur responded as he tucked the little human close to his chest. 

“But Wiiiiiiilllll!! I’m not even outside this time!” The giant always tended to get extra clingy around this time of year. His instincts in high gear and on Tommy the second he was awake, worried that Tommy wasn’t warm enough. Tommy didn’t blame him though. Not when he literally met Wilbur in the midst of a snow storm. He hadn’t meant to lose the trail and get stranded in Giant territory, but stuff like that always seemed to follow the Great Tommy Danger Kraken Innit! He’s just lucky that the giant had found him in the snow before he became a frozen popsicle. And even luckier that this Giant didn’t eat humans. So yes, Tommy understood that Wilbur was going to be a little extra cautious about him almost dying of Hypothermia again. But he didn’t have to be so damn cuddly and touchy all the f***** time!!

“Wilbur I’m fine! I’m not gonna get cold! The fires going and keeping everything nice and toasty warm, so stop being a d*** and put me down!!” Tommy said as he squirmed in Wilbur’s hold.

“Tommy. You are literally the most chaotic little gremlin I’ve ever seen. If I put you down, I guarantee you’ll be screaming for help in less than five minutes trying not to freeze your a** off!!” In retaliation, Tommy started biting and scratching at Wilbur’s hand. It didn’t hurt of course, but Wilbur found it cute watching the attempt at escape. He loved Tommy like a brother and ever since he found him had sworn to protect him no matter what, his instincts often being a little overbearing at keeping the chaotic child safe. And if that meant holding onto him for hours at a time, then he’d happily oblige. So what if he had to do his work with one less hand? He’d take holding Tommy any day. That and his instincts kept screaming at him to keep the human close.

After a few minutes Tommy eventually resigned himself to his fate and just chilled in Wilbur’s hand. Though he’d never admit it, he secretly loved it when Wilbur would hold him. He felt safe knowing nothing could hurt him when he was with the giant. He didn’t have to worry about anything and could just be content with his pseudo brother. Staying with the giant being the best decision of his life after their first initial meeting. 

Tommy stayed in Wilbur’s hand all day. They chatted while Wilbur did his chores, Wilbur singing songs to Tommy, Tommy sharing wacky insane ideas with Wilbur, all the while the giant's instincts to keep the human close not faltering once. As day turned to dusk and dusk turned to night, Tommy eventually curled up in Wilbur’s hand. Snuggling in as he fell asleep, hugging one of Wil’s fingers close. Wilbur had to resist the urge to coo at the small sleeping human in his hand. Tommy was so small, so fragile but you’d never guess he had such a boisterous personality and was as lively as what he is. Slowly and carefully, Wilbur made his way to bed, getting in and tucking the human close to his heart. He sighed contently knowing nothing could hurt his brother, his instincts finally satisfied. 

“Good night Tommy.” Wilbur whispered quietly as he drifted off to sleep. The brothers comfortable in each other’s warm embrace.\

WOOOOOOOOOOOOO I MADE ANOTHER FIC!!!!! THAT'S 2/3 POSTED!!!!!

I swear I'm still writing the other fic! I swear! I swear! I swear!!! It's gonna be worth the time its taking! PROMISE

64 notes - Posted November 13, 2022

#3

I finally did it!!!!! I got one of these miniature sets!!!! I know people have done them before but this one’s mine with a few personal touches as I didn’t quite do it ‘By the Book’!! That and my silly brain also won’t allow me to glue any of it down either because it’s like: But what if you meet a tiny person? Then they can’t move anything 😭!!!!! So yeah I’m happy!!!

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72 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

#2

Day 5 and 6 of @aaytaro-gt gt Inktober!!!!!

Yes I missed the day to post 5. but anyways we have Dance and Jar!!

Jar also features one of my fav people @a-tiny-frog-girl love ya Froggie 💚

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75 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So I have found another thing to give a shot in amongst everything else I’m doing this month! I’m going to take part in g/t InkTober using @aaytaro-gt prompt list! I want to take the opportunity to practice drawing certain positions and I’ve never really tried to draw gt art before so here’s to hoping I stick to it and make some improvements 😊 might switch between traditional and digital art who know.

Day 1. Acorn

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85 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[rocknrollarticles]

Rory Gallagher: A Rap On The Road

HOT PRESS (December 18, 1981) Vol 5, No 25 The Rory Gallagher Interview Prose by John Waters

Sidenote: this is about 4800 words, so maybe have a little time set aside to read it. The only edits I made were changing "Donal" to "Dónal" and adding the missing "s" to "Keith Richards".

You could say that I’m excited! When I collected my first ever pay packet back in ‘74, I went straight out and flogged it on the complete Rory Gallagher back catalogue and a couple of Taste albums to boot! For the next week, I remember, I was hungry, but very very happy!

Rory Gallagher has always declined to become involved in the excesses that often seem to prevail in the rock ‘n’ roll market place. In his music, and his public persona, he has steadfastly refused to make concessions of any kind in the dir­ection of either commerciality or of fash­ion. He has remained his own man, doing his own thing, doing it well, and being successful. And while other (often less worthy and exalted) musicians have cut themselves off from their followers – isolating themselves in an aloof cocoon of bodyguards and hangers on Gallagher has always remained approachable, famil­iar, touchable.

To me, Rory has always seemed to be the antithesis of the Star Symbol for this reason, paradoxically, he has always been a hero of mine.

Yeah! You could say that I’m excited. To see Gallagher playing live is always a thrill in itself, but on this jaunt I’ll catch the final two gigs of his 1981 tour of British universities, tonight at Birmingham University, and tomorrow at Brunei in Uxbridge, London – and also meet and talk to Rory. In addition, it’s my first overseas assignment for The World’s Most Fortnightly Rock Paper and it will also be my first time to fly in an aeroplane. To mark the occasion, a colony of butterflies have organized an aeronautics display in the pit of my stomach!

And it’s still half an hour to lift off.

Later. Birmingham University: a vener­able, rambling building, with huge, oaken doors, stained glass windows, mountainous staircases and vast mazes of dimly lit corridors with contraceptive dispensing machines that never work! It’s the kind of building in which you walk half a mile to find the toilet, only to discover when you get there that it’s about twenty feet from where you started out!

Gallagher is in his dressing room when we arrive signing autographs for a couple of stray fans.

His appearance is engagingly scruffy, look­ing marginally more like an unmade bed than I do. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt; his hair is uncombed, his face unshaven. He seems slightly heavier than before, his face is fuller. Apart from this he has changed little since first I saw him, back in his Taste days.

At Rory’s suggestion, together with his brother and manager, Dónal, we adjourn to a nearby watering hole for a drink.

Down in the Gun Barrel, for that is the hostelry’s handle, we talk about Irish bands – De Dannan, U2, Bagatelle, The Bogey Boys – and it transpires that Rory’s as up-to-date on what’s happening as I am.

He admires Moving Hearts a lot, but thinks they’re beginning to be hounded for their polit­ical opinions. He defends their right to hold such beliefs and to state them in their music without constantly having to justify themselves. Nobody, he points out, questions the right of The Clash to state what are often much more superficial and less passionately held viewpoints.

By now pre gig tension is mounting. Back in the dressing room, there’s a guy who writes for the college magazine, who would like to interview Rory. His name is Damien. He’s from Omagh, a definite plus! He’s only heard of Taste from his father - a slight minus!

Rory agrees to being interviewed, however, and Damien proceeds to interrogate him about the lack of ‘Irishness’ in his material. Gallagher is cautious, and also, I suspect, slightly hurt by the tone of the question.

“Everyone knows where I’m from,” he de­clares. “And I’m proud of it, but what are you supposed to do to prove it?”

In fact, as it becomes abundantly clear to me as the weekend progresses, any criticism of Rory in the matter of consciousness of his Irish identity is manifestly undeserved. Among the most abiding memories of the trip is the way he would talk animatedly and knowledgably about Ireland, about the political situation; about, for instance, the performance of the Coalition or the lack of it; about his disappointment with the seemingly unconditional support which has been given it by the “independent” deputies especially by Dr. Noel Browne, of whom Rory is a long time admirer.

“I think he was just trying to hinge on this business of writing the great epic Irish rock song,” Rory says of his interviewer afterwards.

Does he, I wonder, have a definite stance to­wards politics, and if so, does he think it should manifest itself in his music?

“I'm not mad about political parties or pol­iticians generally,” he says. “I hate the whole system and all the rest of it. But that attitude gives you the great cop out. So that’s one side of the coin!

“On the other hand, if you have a serious discussion about the way history goes, you tend to say, well, certain people were not as bad as certain other people! Put it this way: I’m inter­ested in modern history, so therefore I’m inter­ested in modern politics; but I also know the baloney, and the crockery, and the jive and the crap that goes on.”

Does he not think his music should reflect this view?

“It’s hard to say. Most rock ‘n’ roll music is pretty apolitical. I dunno, I just do what I do. I’m not into proclamations!!”

So much for the politics, on to the poetry, the gig! Normally, I would say, a staid, almost gloomy environment, tonight the university hall is stuffed to its ancient rafters. The atmosphere is electrifying.

“I opened the door to go in,” said Dónal Gallagher afterwards, “and five people fell out!”

And he was not exaggerating!

Support band, The Rookies, have been off the stage for about twenty minutes when the lights go down, and a mighty cheer goes up. Gerry McAvoy runs on. Suddenly newest mem­ber Brendan O’Neill (whose recruitment means that it’s now an all-Irish-band – he’s from Bel­fast) is behind the drum kit. Last of all comes Gallagher, battered Strat dangling, racing on hands aloft in salute.

From here on, it’s Blitzville!

It is nothing short of incredible to think how many great songs Gallagher has written. Apart from the as yet-unreleased material that he performs, he has a vast repertoire of older stuff to draw from. So much so, in fact, that while the old favourites like “Last Of The Independents,” “Shadow Play,” “Philby,” “Tattoo’d Lady,” “Brute Force And Ignor­ance,” “Wayward Child” and “Bullfrog Blues” are coming thick and fast – it’s only afterwards that you think of all the equally good songs that he’s actually left out.

Nor has he lost any of his flair for histrionics: grimacing, strutting and tearing round the stage; or sustaining a note and tossing his plectrum six feet in the air during “Moonchild", catching it and playing on; or indulging in a bout of dueling guitars with Gerry McAvoy during “Calling Card”; or stopping singing, now and then, when he gets to a chorus, gesturing with his eyes - and the crowd comes in on cue with the hookline!

His song introductions are minimal, being confined to the occasional “here’s a little up-tempo number, hope you enjoy this one, thank you!” or some such understatement! There is a tremendous natural empathy between Rory and his audience, which eliminates the need for any explanations, introductions or other chit­chat.

One of the highlights of his shows has always been the acoustic set. Tonight is no ex­ception, and though unfortunately he no longer performs my personal favourite “Too Much Al­cohol,” nevertheless the two songs featured – “Out On The Western Plain” and a Louisiana Red song called “Ride On Red” maintain the high standard.

The others come back on and it’s more rockers – “Philby” and a blistering “Shadow Play” after which Rory unstraps his guitar, yells the familiar “thanksamillion” farewell, shakes a few hands at the front, waves goodbye and disappears.

A thousand years later, he comes back (no snow rope encores here!) and launches into “Last Of The Independents.” He disappears again, but comes back for a thundering “Secret Agent” which explodes into “Bullfrog Blues.” Then he waves goodbye again and is gone, this time for good.

Afterwards it’s meet the fans time. It takes Rory the best part of an hour to get through the long line of people stretching down the narrow corridor leading to his dressing room. He’s in no hurry. Leisurely he signs autographs, shakes hands, talks about guitars or gadgets, greeting each new arrival with a friendly “how­ya doin,” are ye alright!

I notice two Japanese girls standing near the dressing room. Later I’m informed that one of them, Mitsumi, is the secretary of the Rory Gallagher fan club. They both attend most of the band’s gigs: “Anywhere from Tokyo to London” as Rory puts it. Each night they bring along a little present for Rory - tonight it’s an exotic box of chocolate biscuits.

When the last hand has been shook, and the last album cover signed, we climb into Dónal’s Jensen and speed off through the night (do I sound like Julie Boyd?!) in the direction of London, the scene of tomorrow night’s gig. The plot is that I interview Rory in the car on the way; but a few miles down the road, fate and a flat tyre intervene, and as we discover the spare is also flat, Rory and I end up in the near­by “Watford Gap," a late night diner, while Dónal goes off in search of a garageman to re­pair the puncture.

Rory informs me that back in the old days “The Watford Gap” used to be a great meeting place for bands in the early hours of the morn­ing, after gigs. Nowadays, he jokes, bands might not like to be seen here “without their make­up!”

The restaurant, seemingly in the past a somewhat sleazy joint, has recently been re­novated. Rory jokes that he hopes the fact that it’s been “Ritzed up” doesn’t mean that the eggs are less greasy! (He needn’t have worried!) Like myself he’s a martyr for the health foods I don't think!! He orders a big plate of saus­age, bacon, eggs, beans and chips. I do likewise (though minus the eggs) and we sit down at one at one of the nice new tables, to eat and to talk.

I enquire how he came across new drummer Brendan O’Neill, who replaced Ted McKenna some months back, Ted, I understand, is now playing with Greg Lake, as indeed is Gary Moore.

“Well, I’ve known Brendan for a couple of years,” explains Rory. “He’s been living in Lon­don, and, in fact, he was the first drummer that Gerry used to play with in Belfast, and he was working with this jazz rock group called Swift, so I didn’t even know he was into playing this kind of music, but as luck would have it we played together and it worked out fine. He’d kind of gone through the jazz rock thing phase, and seemingly was interested in playing … (laughs) … whatever it is we play. I hate putting a title on it any more!”

Speak of the Devil. Brendan and Gerry, who have been traveling in another car, arrive with Peter, the band’s road manager.

It transpires that Brendan once played with an Irish showband, The Real McCoy, and this brings forth a store of showband stories, which we swap happily for half an hour. All of them unfortunately are unprintable due to the laws of libel! Sorry!

This conversation prompts me to ask Rory later if there was ever a time when he could have been sucked in irreversibly into the show­band trap. (He did, after all, spend a couple of years playing with the Impact Showband at home in Cork, while he was still at school.)

“Not really. I was extremely determined to get out, because after playing Jim Reeves’ numbers secula seculorum, you’d (shakes head)…naw!!

“Let’s put it this way,” he adds. “Mathematically it’s possible I could’ve ended up playing in a showband, but knowing myself it wouldn’t have happened. I had my fill of them up to here. When I left the showbands for good, I said ‘that’s it!’ No Way!!

“I was only there really about two years, but in that two years I got around the country, and did the Lent tour of England a couple of times. (Note for English readers: the Lent tour was a traditional annual part of Irish showbands life. The dance halls were closed during the six week’s preceding Easter, a “penance”, you see, which was strictly enforced by the Catholic hierarchy – and consequently the bands had to go to England for the duration in order to make a living!)

“And I was in Spain once too, so it was an experience and I was stuck in school, so I couldn’t complain!

“It was still a thrill to actually plug into an AC 30 Vox amp, y’know (laughs). It’s only when you start getting more serious about the music you want to play and don’t want to play, y’know. You don’t want to be going around do­ing covers of ‘Hucklebuck’ or covers of Jim Reeves, or covers of anything, really!

“You had good showbands and bad ones of course. You had a good brass section with The Plattermen, good singers with The Fresh­men, or a certain band would be terrible, but the sax player or the guitar player would be great. You’d always get that in showbands.

“But the band I was in, I mean I tried to push them into doin’ as much Chuck Berry or R‘n’B ish kind of things as possible. We used to do things like ‘Slow Down,’ ‘Nadine,’ ‘Johnny B. Goode,’ all those sort of things. So that would keep me relatively happy. But then we’d still have to do the stuff in between, a couple of pop ones, a couple of country ones, y’know.

“Of course there’s a certain amount of crack in the showbands. There’s an amazing amount of fun that goes on and carry on. But if you’re playing five hours a night and half the time you’re just plonking away, it gets claustro­phobic! And if the other musicians don’t relate to the sort of music you’re fond of its frustrat­ing.

“That’s not to say that you can be too high ‘n’ mighty. I mean the showband players have every right to work in a band like that, and they’re happy doin’ it. And you can be very cynical about it but by the same token, you have to give them credit. They’re playing music – they’re playing dance music, and they’re en­tertaining people, and I’m the first one to knock them for six but y’know, who am I to dictate?

“It’s up to yourself whether you want to go off and starve in Hamburg, or starve in London for a while, and wait for a break that is a long time coming. That's the way it goes!”

Brunel University, Uxbridge, the scene of Saturday night’s gig is a fairly mod­ern complex (or at least what I saw of it was) on the outskirts of London, in fact it’s just a plectrum’s throw away from Heathrow Airport.

Unfortunately the night is marred straight away by an instance of bureaucracy gone wild. Because they’ve got a bee in their bonnet about some previous visiting act doing damage to the dressing rooms, the college authorities are re­fusing to allow the band to have the use of this facility. As a result, Rory, Gerry and Brendan must change in of all places - a squash court!

Thus, when Rory and I sit down before the gig to conduct, as he puts it, the “meat and pot­atoes” of the interview, ensconced in two arm­chairs placed by a Super Ser in the centre of the court, and dwarfed by the sheer vastness of the environment (not to mention frozen), we could be two forlorn characters plucked straight out of some fanciful Beckett scenario, bent on some surreal existentialist spree!

In actual fact, we’re bent over a tape-recorder, and what follows is a veritable valley of questions and answers.

His new album, he reveals, is to be called “Jinx.”

Rory: “Yeah, we’ve got it recorded, it just needs mixing. It was supposed to have been re­leased in late autumn, but we were too late in finishing it. And then the tour came up, so trying to rush it out for Christmas, type of thing, would’ve been silly, because it’d just get lost in the shuffle, and you mightn’t even have done it properly, y’know. So this way is better!”

Having heard a number of the songs last night, the stomping ‘Double Vision’, the bluesy ‘Ride On Red’, to name but two, I can vouch for their quality, but what about the other songs which have not, as yet, been assimilated into the set?

“Well, let’s see. There’s a song, called ‘Loose Talk’ which we haven’t done on stage. There’s a song, called ‘Signals’, which you haven’t heard it’s a spacey, kinda fast one.

“There’s the song ‘Jinxed’ itself, which is quite slow kind of Latin blues type of feel to it. It has a kind of Latin American beat, but it’s actually a blues number. It’s quite interesting y’know, with tom toms and stuff, and it’s got a couple of saxes on it as well... it’s got quite a spooky atmosphere, that one!

“There’s a song we’ve been doing called ‘The Devil Made Me Do It’, a very fast Eddie Cochran sort of thing, not quite rockabilly, but a very fast sort of driving one. And then there’s ‘Easy Come, Easy Go’ which is a kind of a minor … I’d call it a ballad, really, but it’s a blues ballad something in the vein of ‘A Million Miles Away’. That type of stuff!”

Immediate plans involve mixing the album and hitting the road again in the New Year. There’ll be continental gigs, some in Britain to coincide with the release of the album and in Ireland around Easter, if current projections are met.

“But next year, our main aim is to try to get back to the States, and be a bit more active there,” he adds.

Gallagher obviously has lost none of his commitment to touring, in fact, he spends on average, between six and eight months on the road each year. In the past twelve months, for instance, the band has visited Australia, New Zealand and France, and also played two dates in Greece, one an open air gig in Athens, the second indoors at Salonika.

As Greece - what with the repressive junta regime that existed there up to the recent election, has never exactly been on the beaten track as far as touring rock bands are concerned (the last band to perform there were The Roll­ing Stones... in 1967!!), one might have expected some enthusiasm. In fact, at the Athens gig, there was a full scale riot!

“They expected fifteen thousand people,” explains Rory, “and that’s serious! And I said ‘well, they must be kidding!!’ I didn’t realize that you could have that amount, but as it turned out, there was twice that many, or there­abouts, but half of them were outside, and either they supposedly gate crashed, or else the police over reacted because the audience were all up on their feet.

“It was a great gig really if I say so myself and, all of a sudden, the police started getting a little heavy with the audience, things started getting a little bit hard, y’know. We were just playin’ away it really only all happened after the encore. The crowd were grand, but y’see they don’t have all that many big shows like that, and I suppose the police were nervous. There was the election coming up, as well, in two weeks or something, so I think they used the concert as an example to show how they could keep control of a crowd, or something like that

“The trouble in a situation like that is: if you get too much of the strong armed approach towards a couple of fans, it’s seen, and it goes through the auditorium or the arena very fast. Naturally enough, when the word gets out, it gets very nasty, and if you’ve got guys there with riot gear on, and stuff like that, it makes matters seem worse.

“People were hurt (300, in fact), I dunno, I only heard the reports afterwards. A couple of the police were hurt, and quite a few of the audience.

“They all made it home somehow or other, but I think they burned down a few cafes on the way!! But that’s not in my fault!”

Were there any repercussions for the band?

“We had to move lightly on our feet, be­cause there was a hint that I might be held as some sort of a trouble maker. They were talking of putting off the show in Salonika, after Athens, but that went of fairly well, there was no problem.”

Would he go back there?

“Ah I would yeah. Sure. I wouldn’t go back if the junta were back in power, but I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

Will he be let go back?

“Well the Socialists actually won the election out there, so I think it’ll be all right. I think it was just a nervous situation, y’know.”

Quick change of direction: does he listen much to current music?

“I'm all ears, all the time! I could reasonably claim to be fairly aware of all kinds of music. I can’t say I’m all that switched on by a lot of recent stuff, but if I’m going to criticize something, I like to actually know what I’m talking about!”

Has there been anything at all recently, that he particularly liked?

“Lemme see… I’m thinking too hard so ob­viously there hasn’t been anything. I like the Stray Cats, I liked their first album – I’m not that daft about the second one though. Costello I like a lot, but I don’t regard him as being that new at this point.”

How did he feel about Costello’s recent foray into the world of country music?

“Well I’m a country fan myself, but not of the sweeter stuff. I like Johnny Paycheck and Waylon Jennings, and I thought he was gonna do something like that, but in fact he went for the sweet stuff, the strings and voices. And the producer, Billy Sherrill, even though that TV programme (recent ITV documentary about the making of Costello’s album in Nashville - shown as part of the “South Bank Show” series) gave the impression that he was into orchestrations and all that sort of thing, on the other records he just doesn’t have all that stuff!

“Nevertheless it was a worthwhile project –you’d wonder though whether he’d have got a better result by just goin’ into a studio with Nick Lowe and a steel player, and just goin’ for more of a honky tonk sound.”

What other music does he listen to?

“In any particular week, I listen to … I could be listening to rhythm ‘n’ blues tonight, and to­morrow I could be listening to fairly contem­porary stuff. I used to listen to a lot of jazz, but not so much any more.

“I still like music that sounds fairly human, I suppose that’s a corny way of putting it. But I’m not keen on – I’m not against synthes­izers, but y’know the current wave of bands, I’m not keen on them, the New Romantics, and stuff like that, it doesn’t appeal to me! I tend to still have lot of respect for the more traditional names like Dylan and the Stones and people like that!”

Does he have an ideal rock ‘n’ roll person?

“Well I mean Keith Richards, might be the obvious modern day, ultimate rock ‘n’ roll figure or Chuck Berry, I imagine, or Jerry Lee. There’s loads of them y’see (laughs) but I don’t really believe in, this thing of making…”

What about Elvis Presley?

“Oh yeah, I’d personally strangle that guy (Albert Goldman) who’s written that new book. I haven’t read it all, but I read the ex­tracts in Rolling Stone. He couldn’t have written that book if Elvis was still alive, because of the laws of libel the dead can’t come back and sue! Y’know? Hopefully though, Elvis will haunt him yet with a bit of luck!!

“No one’s above having their lives reviewed and written about, and so on, but y’know, how can you sit down and say something like ‘as Elvis lay on his bed, he thought to himself… Or, as Elvis said to himself as he walked onto the Vegas stage for the last time’. That’s fict­ion!

“If Charlie Gillet had written it, or Greil Marcus, or one of those fellows, somebody who likes rock ‘n’ roll, but this guy actually likes Benny Goodman. He was on TV recently, being interviewed, and he said that Elvis was only basically a good copyist of demo discs and he just wrote him off! And that’s not on! I’d be surprised if he even has an album at home. I mean that’s where I’d draw the line. If Elvis did good things or bad things – well everyone has gotta answer for themselves, but you must remember that Elvis had to live in a very… there wasn't much allowance. It was a very strict society. Keith Richard can get away with almost anything now, or Jagger or any of these people. Society is going that way now, and that's fine! But people expected Elvis o be perfect all of the time, y’know!

“I think too much has been made of turning rock ‘n’ roll figures into some sort of deities, of elevating them too much. Everyone likes praise, and everyone likes to see certain artists admired y’know, or held in esteem. But if it’s taken too far I think it gets a bit lopsided, particularly if you know one or two of them, if that’s not a prim thing to say and you know they’re only human, and they can only do a certain job.”

Is this why Rory has always ensured that he remained approachable? Or does he think about it at all?

“Ah not really. I mean I don’t see myself as approachable all of the time. But I just try to keep a wee bit of… I try to keep my feet some­what on the ground. I suppose I – I’m getting into analyzing myself now (laughs) which I don’t really like, but I mean, I have avoided certain trappings of the thing because I think they ruin rock ‘n’ roll or whatever we play. The mess people’s heads up, and it’s a hard enough business as it is! I like to keep a certain amount of control of what I do, and you’ve to make sacrifices for that you have to cut down your stardom (grimaces) ambitions. At least this way you can attempt to make fairly decent music - make decent albums, and play for the fun of it without getting too carried away!”

Saturday night’s gig goes off well. There is marginally more room to move than the night before, but as the venue is at least twice the size of the Birmingham one, there is probably in fact a larger attendance.

Afterwards Rory, Dónal, Pasquale (who handles the band’s continental promotions) and I head into town to eat, and proceed to assault our respective brains with consecutive bottles of Carlsberg Special and sundry other beverages.

I’m struck, as indeed I was many times throughout the last couple of days, by the wide range of Rory’s interests. For perhaps four or five hours he talks about everything under the sun - music, venues, movies, tennis, politics, Elvis, religion, spies and music. And they’re just the things I can remember!

Much later, Dónal drops me back to my hotel, where I should be able to grab about twenty minutes sleep before catching my early morning flight.

Packing a suitcase, I reflect on what a spec­ial kind of person Rory Gallagher is: what an amiable, interesting companion and what a down to earth human being. And what a superb musician as well.

And it dawns on me again just how well that first pay packet was spent.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

would have too much to say that inevitably repeatedly breaking things up into tweets wouldn't be a pain but already going back like, lets check out andor episode one again in full true connoisseur mode and i'm not pressed if i make it into a proper in order rewatch, also when the bonus for me is that i'm always more likely to better keep track of names or faces or pick up on something that was supposed to be like a straightforward plot moment or whatever else, right, though i didn't have any especial problem with that. anyways i'm just already like oh this entire first sequence fucks, and i didn't really go into this that skeptically but do remember like yeah first time around it was like with this intro premise alone like ah i see this fucks then

like first of all an initial shot choice that is stylish, which tells us that there will be stylishness. fun that the couple evil [police procedural] characters are great at being pathetic zero charisma soaking creepy & wet disgusting in their own special ways, but cassian is getting rained on all the time he's cutting the plumbing line he swam here soaking wet literal treatment

things feeling figuratively and literally grounded (walking, only seeing that walkway, streetview, no soaring establishing shot to show This Isn't Your Ordinary City (scifi edition)) like, also still clear enough it's scifi but really with the Magical Realism type of approach, which i do imagine i enjoy more

the scoring is so good. BANGER of a track used when walking into the bar, also used later when dropped into the introduction of his beach getaway new life scene, brief as it is. the sexy edm style track, and it Is also like "well i mean. sure then" getting so far into this scene before it's evident like oh you're not actually here to have sex. pretty flirtatious w/this proprieter but it's like, maybe discreetly acting natural, maybe just acting naturally for real and it's just like that, we've all been there re Blend In, Follow Their Lead as a rule for operating anywhere ever, presumably relevant here, the Everyone's Wary nature of the whole series....tbt talking about jyn like yeah idk maybe her brand of wariness that's not charismaticly intense enough nor closed offedly intense enough is like, itself confusing or whatever but absolute "what's not to get or like" sense from me, and naturally cassian cropping up like it's your wary kindred spirit

anyways then having fun in there. looking at the required sexy hologram dancer like hmm they're a little space androgynous. a little space gnc af. the guys who are just immediately pissed off b/c the supposed new customer is getting preference. the delay after the proprieter lady is like Behave to them and cassian looks at her, then them. his immediate brooking no nonsense w/the two as soon as they're all hostile mode at him about all of it, at least in terms of like, not playing it utterly neutral. the It's Political times of him asking about a woman from kenari, proprieter lady going for both a) how about this other planet of origin and [names an inferred similar feature] as well as this kind of establishes already that [from kenari] can be space racially profiled, since cassian doesn't have to explicitly confirm that's where he's from too, and her inferring this is a Preference that can be catered to around physical features, and certainly once cassian's Wanted about this, the urgency around maarva & co asking who they've ever told that cassian's from kenari is sure like ah, space borders, space immigration, space [indeed the racial profiling when the soaking is he creepy or wet pathetic heinous cop pulls up an Image], the repeated like space colonialism and space indigeneity and space resource extraction that gets to come up more with [i've been in this fight since i was six years old] flashbacks....it's great like, the magical realism aspect where it's like [yeah Real Life but slight au] feeling immediately relevantly recognizable and as viscerally dramatic as you'd want, like, everyone's daily lives involving this inherent lack of safety that can turn into the stress of imminent danger on a dime. also the eventual b) asking if he's a Boyfriend or Husband like, space gender, magical realism style where it's like of course the space misogyny power disparity they'd be on the lookout for, might be vulnerable to a partner who is a space man. oh and then also the shift when he says it's his sister he's looking for, from more guarded to sympathetic when it's like, the context then isn't the woman's vulnerability being heightened if this is someone here out of like, a possessive angle, and rather that he's now not only presumably sympathetic to her as well, but potentially some of that vulnerability being extrapolated to him as well. which is not inaccurate

obsessed w/the Long Shot where cassian's getting held up by the two company sentry guys and it's him close up center frame slightly from above and just tearing it up acting while we only hear the other two for a good while until they wander in out of focus, that at first we also can't see and thus can't immediately Know they're talking to him....as well as again establishing like, yeah this is a prequel where we know our protagonist won't die no matter how [people are definitely dying] the situations are, yeah we know he's cool action guy even, but he's not operating in a story here where it's all about his protracted solo epic action sequences, he wants to avoid those, other people want to avoid those, everyone's better off operating more stealth mode if they can help it, but also that it doesn't matter to him that We know he's not gonna die, he doesn't know it, and Everyone knowing those stakes and reacting to the stress rather than being like stoic too epic to be at all fazed badasses. d luna crushing it, everyone's great but yeah sure acting as hell huh

also this time around i was just so much more noticeably affected by like oh i feel bad for this guy who's realizing his buddy who also sucks is dead and now that he's in over his head majorly life and death....everyone acting in every part is just going ham like bevy of these varied performances in varied roles and nobody dropping the ball in the least. while it's obvious too that like, feels bad for the panicky source in rogue one intro as well but cassian can't give much away then b/c he's not the protagonist and it's all very mysterious at this point. and that in addition to upping the surprise, it's presumably nonzero meant to be a kindness from him to take the time to comfort the guy before then blowing him away. whereas here the guy sees it coming and like, really brought this upon yourselves and you made this potentially life or death for cassian from the start, as he was aware, but this time it's like yeah cassian wasn't expecting that to turn into [bad luck, that headbutt killed you. and/or also the fall] and is Not so mysterious to us so can be clearly surprised and less than thrilled about things as well....but feels apropos that also w/ this intro of these two rando sentry guys from the bar who the proprietor was like yeah they're not really cops but they annoyingly like to act like it, it can be a bit more genuinely pathetic vs the Pathetic(tm) quality of the like imperial space feds characters. like oh i do feel bad for this guy and all the time he has here to plead for his life :( but doesn't feel like it's meant to be some [dun dunnn?] moment re cassian b/c it's like, tells us the stakes, tells us he's not fucking around and Will shoot someone but we've also been told he's not like here to be, or feel, badass invincible, is not unaffected by fear of death nor of having killed someone / death in general, but also Will be blowing you away if need be, also speaking to like, he's run calculations before abt like, whaddaya gonna do, what are the risks and which are you willing to take, and obviously has fought before and if he's ever killed someone before it wouldn't be surprising, some like "my god i've never done that before / now i'm out for blood, never look back" factor does not seem to be relevant. but fr was fun to be surprised by like oh i feel bad for this guy this time around lol noticeably much more than affected me the first time around. true [oops in over your head] vibes but which also then speak to like, yeah probably would've stopped pretending to be cops, just feels like yeah he's more distant from [uh oh, attention from Empire cops now] figures so it's like, ah, you bring it upon yourself but. i'm not quite sure what got me this time around lol, again i guess just more ability to focus on details and thee moment b/c i'm not like, needing to intently devote my attention to potentially following names and faces and plotlines b/c it's the opening scene here and don't get lost before things even happen. maybe it's having subtitles on where i'm all the more sure of the dialogue and him talking about "we'll go in together" has me like "there but for your fucking around, no need for this, i remember the vaguely friendly acknowledgment before your egos were bruised and you got hostile about it and escalated it to This" maybe it's even him offering a story and phrasing it like "we played too hard in hitting" when i have this like, vulnerable association lol like if anyone's upset / distressed enough And there's the immediate proximity / presence of something meant to be like, purely fun, where even talking about Playing may be enough to be like oh no lol, even when that's not really what happened. again, the acting from everyone, maybe it's just focusing all the more on that, wherein truly epic seeming distressed and miserable, maybe it also helps that we also get shots of more diego luna acting which is also to the effect of: pretty distressed and miserable, soaking wet. i dunno but i'm like hell yeah being all the more caught up in whatever.

also that this was like, oh a seeming potential thread establishment? and of course "whoops killed two guys" is indeed an established thread, the [looking for his sister] remaining latent as the setup to that inciting event and otherwise like, just something he does, characterization and [backstory thread] relevant, but only that. and yet, the way that opening scenes are generally meant to do, this whole sequence conveying plenty about how things are going to be, establishing overall contexts, thee vibe, that the soundtrack fucks, that nobody's messing around here in the least like. just as these first minutes didn't have to go so hard, so neither will the rest of the series have had to. i also didn't have to say all this or post at all but i get hype and when i have anything to say i really do. no concision. oh shit and we end with like the directional reverse of the first opening stylish shot but w/cassian in frame as well yeahh boyyee

[2fakind]

Machine Girl (specifically mgultra)

god damn i am loving it and squeezing all the joy i can from it

as the number of elements in the mg music set approaches infinity, we reach a perfect blend of visceral transcendance

thoughts words

the transitions between different vibes are not as jarring in this one. it's something. i am neutral about this. it probably works for the album being overall lighter but i kinda hope its not a precedent

i love how theyre still doing fun stuff with their audio. it makes my starved autism mind so happy to imagine editing to stuff like "sick!!!" 2:22. on the topic of "sick!!!", the lyrics are just as funny as theyve been prior. funny isn't a good way to put it, but i know what i mean and so does one other person - funny in the way that meaning is very apparent and jumps out at me but i still want to think about it. talk about land with an eviction notice. is that about landlords or colonialism, is it drawing a parallel, idk, it's funny.

"nu nu meta phenomena" 0:17 also makes me laugh every time it comes up. the chorus? (the part where they chant "nu nu meta phenomena") is also really good but i can't *just* be nice about something without some additional autistic comment.

"motherfather" i actually hadn't heard this before album release, holy shit don't give matt a guitar she'll fucking kill us all IM THE ONE YOU CANT DESTROY!!!!! there's a lot of characteristics of this one i just love love love being my current self. the slight gender feeling tm (not sure what else to call that. patent pending), the spiteful rejection of (suicide, but that's just me), the back and forth tonal shift. i love it so

did they reuse the "see you in hell" soundbyte from "fuck your guns" at the start of "psychic attack"?

i was not expecting a song called "ass2mars" to sweep me off my feet but they managed regardless. and the best thing is that i dont even really know why? i think the instrumentation, especially in terms of how their sound synergize are at their peak in this album and specifically this song. but is that it? there's gotta be more to it...

i love that they keep making songs for chill ass mfs. before it was "nwofka skullboy" and "dance in the fire" now its "grindhouse" and "just because you can"

i don't really have critical or analytical thoughts. i'm just enjoying my time with mgultra and i guess i'm too mentally disparaged to start a journal or some such

[tilbageidanmark]

MOVIES I WATCHED THIS WEEK (#191):

2 BY ELEM KLIMOV:

🍿 THE GROOM, my second film by Elem Klimov (after 'Larisa'). This is a sweet early film (1960) about a boy who helps a little girl pass a math test.

🍿 First watch: His tragic epic COME AND SEE (1985), long considered one of the greatest anti-war movies ever made. I'm not big on movies that deal with genocide, cruel atrocities and brutal suffering, so I avoided it until now, but the time had come.

"And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, "Come and see!" And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth."

It ranks as #41 on the ‘Sight & Sound’ 2022 list of ‘Directors’ 100 Greatest Films of All Time'. (There are still 14 on this list that I haven't seen, and I'm going to watch them soon).

🍿

BLADE RUNNER, THE AQUAREL EDITION was an obsessive labor of life project, made by one Anders Ramsell. He painted 12,597 aquarelle paintings of 'Blade Runner', shot by shot, and edited the entire film down to 35 minutes. it took two years of painstaking work, all done in his spare time after work each night. (Screenshot Above). The video made some impact on the internet in 2012, but after a while, all copies of it disappeared from the web. Now it suddenly re-surfaced again. For fans of the original Rick Deckard.

🍿

2 BY BRITISH DIRECTOR BENJAMIN CARON:

🍿 SHARPER is a new, old-fashioned and 'sharp' crime mystery with a changing prospective. It lays out as good of a 'Confidence Game' as Stephen Frears's 'The Grifters', David Mamet's 'The Spanish Prisoner' and David Fincher's 'The Game'. It starts building slow, and ends with a somehow-predictable conclusion, but the many twists along the way are done with verve and smooth hand. And now I want to continue on a bender with similar con-men and women. Where should I start?

For anybody planning to watch this, please approach it without expectations, and don't read anything about it in advance. 8/10.

🍿 The spectacular slight-of-hand in 'Sharper' is probably born out of director Caron involvement with British 'Mentalist' Derren Brown! He directed many of his filmed performances, f. ex. DERREN BROWN: ENIGMA. No idea how he does his impossible tricks!

I used to watch many of his "Magic" shows, and enjoyed him tremendously. I wonder why he's not more popular (except maybe in England). By now, he also posted 740 of his events on his YouTube channel, including this 2019 Ted Talk.

“Darren Brown walked, so that Derek Delgaudio could run…”

🍿

ZAMA, my second opaque, exhausting hallucination by Lucrecia Martel. Like her debut 'La Ciénaga', which is considered to be "the greatest Argentinian film of all time", it's a low-key, mysterious fable. A painful Kafkaesque period piece, a descent from dark helplessness to final hopelessness. A 18 century magistrate is suspended at a remote colonial post, waiting for a letter from his superior, hoping it will announce his transfer so that he can reunite with his family. But nothing good will happen to him. It's humiliating and poetically bleak. The trailer doesn't translate the ennui. [*Female Director*]

🍿

SOME DUDE NAMED JIM CUMMINGS X 3:

🍿THE LAST STOP IN YUMA COUNTY is a new, indie fun thriller, which could have been so much better, if its director was not so young. It has a stylized, powerful opening, telling of 2 Arizona bank robbers stranded in a desert diner with no gas in their car. It turns into a dark black-comedy after the first act, and ends with an all-out 'Mexican standoff' that leaves every single character in the movie dead (except of one crying baby). Gene Jones repeats his role as the Gas Station Proprietor from 'No country'. The best review I read was only 3 words: "Tarantino from Temu".

🍿 In FOLLOWERS (2023) two stereotypical LA-women meet randomly as they walk their dogs and start getting into each other personal lives. But maybe their chance encounter wasn't that random... It's seldom you encounter such super-irritating people, so unbearably-cringe from the very first uncomfortable line of dialogue. Their small time conversations and creepy mannerism were anxiety-inducing. [*Female Director*]

🍿THE LAST BRUNCH, directed by this Jim Cummings, is a terrible, cringey parody of Tim Robinson' "I Think You Should Leave" sketch, if you can imagine that. 1/10.

🍿

LOVE ME TONIGHT, my 2nd Rouben Mamoulian musical (after 'Silk Stockings'.) It opens with a creative sequence of a Parisian street as it wakes up to life, and it's from here that the song 'Isn’t It Romantic' originated [after which it re-plays it about 10 times...] But the class difference trope of a lowly tailor among the powdered-wig aristocrats, and fruity Maurice Chevalier as a romantic lead, were cheesy and conventional. 1932 was still pre-code, but already deep into the Great Depression, so Paramount dished out a fairy tale about princesses, and palaces, and footmen, where every door was 10-15 meter tall.

🍿

MARSHAL CURRY X 2:

🍿 I've seen his 'Street Fight' doc before, about Cory Booker's election. His THE NEIGHBOR’S WINDOW won the 2020 Oscars for short films. A New Yorker couple with 3 kids watch with envy their new neighbors across the street, having sex, and having fun - until they don't. Kind of like 'Rear window' for our times, but without the murder.

🍿 A NIGHT AT THE GARDEN featured powerful archival footage from February 1939, when 20,000 Nazi-Americans rallied in Madison Square Garden to celebrate fascism. It was produced by Laura Poitras and was offered without comment. In 2017, when it was made, it must have been revelatory to many, who didn't know about this before. The shock from Trump's ascent to power forced the world to realize that he did not invent his vile worldview, it's been there all alone.

🍿

My first political film by British Peter Watkins PUNISHMENT PARK [Also, definitely, my last one]. It's a 1971 mockumentary, done in a Cinéma vérité style, about two groups of counterculture types. One group is being hunted down in Death Valley by a fascist team of National Guards, and the other hippies are being tried in a makeshift kangaroo court for exercising "Un-American" values. On the background of the resistance to the Vietnam War, it's the 'Pigs' and the 'Establishment' vs. the liberals and the feminists. So the political bent had everything I believed in myself during that time: Radical, revolutionary, anti-capitalistic, pacifist. But as a searing piece of agitprop it was unwatchable: Didactic propaganda, amateurish, jerky, rambling, but mostly: boring. 1/10.

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Not a huge fan of the Adam Sandler (I don't think I've seen half a dozen of his famous comedies over the years), but his latest stand up, LOVE YOU, was enchanting. Directed by one of the Safdie Brothers (I still did not finish their 'Uncut gems') it's sweet and laid back, with a stray dog running into the stage, lots of juvenile humor, and absurd stories, about blowing a balloon, a 1-foot man, Etc. The most enjoyable parts however were the funky musical bits, especially the Elvis Impersonator, and the brilliant Ode to Comedians which wrapped it up.

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YouTube film essay pioneers 'Every Frame a Painting' is back! Everybody's favorite Tony Zhou (and Taylor Ramos!) posted a new essay THE SUSTAINED TWO-SHOT, and a trailer for their first film The Second! How exciting! When they suddenly stopped producing terrific videos 8 years ago, they penned a thoughtful 'Postmortem' piece (which included many samples of how they made them, included this The Spielberg Oner.) Looking forward for more.

This is in contrast to the average YT video by less talented essayists, for example, How Ralph Fiennes Perfected Amon Goeth in 'Schindler’s List'. I mean, it's all there, just not very good.

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A BUNCH OF SHORTS:

🍿 FOR THE FIRST TIME is a 1967 Cuban documentary about a mobile projectionist who travels to an isolated mountain village and sets up an evening of cinema. They chose to show Chaplin's 'Modern time', the first movie that any of the villagers had ever seen. Some of them say that they have no idea what 'a movie' is. It's similar to the later Spanish drama 'Spirit of the beehive'.

🍿 BREAD (1918) is another tragic story of an unfortunate woman exploited by men because she's desperately poor. Like the Lois Weber's 'Shoes' that I saw recently, it too was made by a woman pioneer, Ida May Park, and like it, it was selected for the NFR, (even though only a 1/3 of it remained). [*Female Director*]

🍿 NELLY'S STORY is a sad German short about a little girl who locks her mom out of the house on her 9th birthday, as the mom tries to shoot an Instagram story of that celebration. Painfully personal... 8/10.

🍿 THE HERO (1994) is an award-winning Mexican animation about a man who sees a girl in a crowded subway station that he believes is trying to commit suicide. Dark Bill Plympton style.

🍿 MY DAD IS 100 YEARS OLD, my first art-documentary by Canadian Guy Maddin. It is more of an Isabella Rossellini homage, in that she wrote it and discusses her father's life and work. It made me want to see more of Roberto Rossellini movies, not necessarily Maddin's.

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THROW-BACK TO THE ADORA ART PROJECT:  

Happy birthday, Adora.

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(ALL MY FILM REVIEWS - HERE).

[dollycas]

Happy Independence Day!

Happy Independence Day! The land of opportunity. You just need the right people and the right work ethic and you can accomplish anything. ~Bob Poser - Major League Baseball pitcher - from my hometown People in power are trying to convince us that the villain in our American story is each other. But that is not our story. That is not who we are. That's not our America. Our United States of America is not about us versus them. It's about we the people! ~Camila Alves McConaughey - Model - Designer The life of the nation is secure only while the nation is honest, truthful, and virtuous. ~Frederick Douglass - American social reformer, abolitionist, orator, writer, and statesman. Where you see wrong or inequality or injustice, speak out, because this is your country. This is your democracy. Make it. Protect it. Pass it on. ~Thurgood Marshall - United States jurist It will be celebrated with pomp and parade, bonfires and illuminations from one end of this continent to the other. ~John Adams - American statesman, attorney, diplomat, writer, and Founding Father who served as the second president of the United States from 1797 to 1801. While many of us are celebrating as John Adams proclaimed we have to remember the meaning of the day, especially with the ruling made by the Supreme Court on Monday.  Independence Day, known as the Fourth of July, is a federal holiday in the United States commemorating the Declaration of Independence, which was ratified by the Second Continental Congress on July 4, 1776, establishing the United States of America. The Founding Father delegates of the Second Continental Congress declared that the Thirteen Colonies were no longer subject (and subordinate) to the monarch of Britain, King George III, and were now united, free, and independent states. The Congress voted to approve independence by passing the Lee Resolution on July 2 and adopted the Declaration of Independence two days later, on July 4. Text of the Declaration of Independence Note: The source for this transcription is the first printing of the Declaration of Independence, the broadside produced by John Dunlap on the night of July 4, 1776. Nearly every printed or manuscript edition of the Declaration of Independence has slight differences in punctuation, capitalization, and even wording. To find out more about the diverse textual tradition of the Declaration, check out our Which Version is This, and Why Does it Matter? resource.         WHEN in the Course of human Events, it becomes necessary for one People to dissolve the Political Bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the Powers of the Earth, the separate and equal Station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent Respect to the Opinions of Mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the Separation. We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness—-That to secure these Rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just Powers from the Consent of the Governed, that whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these Ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its Foundation on such Principles, and organizing its Powers in such Form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient Causes; and accordingly all Experience hath shewn, that Mankind are more disposed to suffer, while Evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the Forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long Train of Abuses and Usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object, evinces a Design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their Right, it is their Duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future Security. Such has been the patient Sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the Necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The History of the present King of Great-Britain is a History of repeated Injuries and Usurpations, all having in direct Object the Establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid World. He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public Good. He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing Importance, unless suspended in their Operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them. He has refused to pass other Laws for the Accommodation of large Districts of People, unless those People would relinquish the Right of Representation in the Legislature, a Right inestimable to them, and formidable to Tyrants only. He has called together Legislative Bodies at Places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the Depository of their public Records, for the sole Purpose of fatiguing them into Compliance with his Measures. He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly Firmness his Invasions on the Rights of the People. He has refused for a long Time, after such Dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative Powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the Dangers of Invasion from without, and Convulsions within. He has endeavoured to prevent the Population of these States; for that Purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their Migrations hither, and raising the Conditions of new Appropriations of Lands. He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary Powers. He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the Tenure of their Offices, and the Amount and Payment of their Salaries. He has erected a Multitude of new Offices, and sent hither Swarms of Officers to harrass our People, and eat out their Substance. He has kept among us, in Times of Peace, Standing Armies, without the consent of our Legislatures. He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil Power. He has combined with others to subject us to a Jurisdiction foreign to our Constitution, and unacknowledged by our Laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation: For quartering large Bodies of Armed Troops among us: For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from Punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States: For cutting off our Trade with all Parts of the World: For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent: For depriving us, in many Cases, of the Benefits of Trial by Jury: For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended Offences: For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an arbitrary Government, and enlarging its Boundaries, so as to render it at once an Example and fit Instrument for introducing the same absolute Rule into these Colonies: For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments: For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with Power to legislate for us in all Cases whatsoever. He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us. He has plundered our Seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our Towns, and destroyed the Lives of our People. He is, at this Time, transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the Works of Death, Desolation, and Tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty and Perfidy, scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous Ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized Nation. He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the Executioners of their Friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands. He has excited domestic Insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the Inhabitants of our Frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known Rule of Warfare, is an undistinguished Destruction, of all Ages, Sexes and Conditions. In every stage of these Oppressions we have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble Terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated Injury. A Prince, whose Character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the Ruler of a free People. Nor have we been wanting in Attentions to our British Brethren. We have warned them from Time to Time of Attempts by their Legislature to extend an unwarrantable Jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the Circumstances of our Emigration and Settlement here. We have appealed to their native Justice and Magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the Ties of our common Kindred to disavow these Usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our Connections and Correspondence. They too have been deaf to the Voice of Justice and of Consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the Necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of Mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace, Friends. We, therefore, the Representatives of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the World for the Rectitude of our Intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly Publish and Declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be, Free and Independent States; that they are absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political Connection between them and the State of Great-Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm Reliance on the Protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor. Signed by Order and in Behalf of the Congress, JOHN HANCOCK, President. Source - https://declaration.fas.harvard.edu/resources/text Constitution of the United States The Preamble We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America. Read more here.  Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent Read the full article

[forzahorizon2pc]

Where i Can Download Forza Horizon 2

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